


like emptiness in harmony

by gratednutmeg, jaywani



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Drunk Sex, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 12:04:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 25,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11920530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gratednutmeg/pseuds/gratednutmeg, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaywani/pseuds/jaywani
Summary: Dirk and Todd try to survive the end of the world and each other.





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the 2017 Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency Big Bang (dghdabigbang.tumblr.com). My art partner is the boundlessly talented and immeasurably kind Jaywani (jaywani.tumblr.com), who was unerringly patient with my endless delays and made THREE (!!!!) drawings for this fic. Her art for the story can be found here: https://jaywani.tumblr.com/post/164691877474 - It seriously is the most lovely thing you can possibly imagine. (The images are also embedded in their respective chapters if you want to be surprised :) )
> 
> Very last minute beta'ing by the incomparable sarkywoman (sarkywoman.tumblr.com), any remaining errors are obviously mine.
> 
> Spoilers through Season 1 in its entirety, but not for Season 2.
> 
> Title from Simon and Garfunkel. Chapter title sources noted as necessary.

_"…Reports indicate that a rabid animal was responsible for the devastation, where the entire town of Norwood (population 500) was decimated. Animal control, as well as local authorities, are investigating the incident._

_"In other news, it's going to be a rough flu season, folks. Make sure to get your shots and wash your hands!"_


	2. try this trick and spin it

What Dirk really, truly _resented_ about the whole thing was that there wasn't even anyone to talk to. At all. There was a slot at the bottom of the door through which food was pushed thrice daily. He'd tried shouting, making conversation with, and out and out pleading with the feeder person or thing, but who or whatever was providing room service was not inclined to reply. The problem, the real, true crux of it — or one of them anyway — was not that he couldn't solve the case. It was that there was no case to solve. There was nothing to have a hunch about. There was just… nothing. Nothing to solve, nothing to think about.

That was wholly inaccurate, actually. There was plenty to think about. What there was not was anything to stop him from thinking. About Farah, who might possibly have seen him taken and even now be mounting a daring rescue. About Amanda, who was _quite_ the Rowdy now according to Todd and about—

It really didn't bear thinking about to think about Todd. His best friend. And Todd really was going to be so cross with him. After all there weren't many Mexican Funeral t-shirts left to speak of, and Dirk had gone and lost his. Well. Not so much lost as had it _quite_ forcefully removed. And it had torn when he tried to hold onto it. Quite unfair really.

He was reasonably sure Todd would forgive him. If he ever saw Todd again to be forgiven, of course. Which, much though he tried to think about it, was not actually a given at this point.

He couldn't be sure of how exactly how long it had been. The lights went off at what was presumably night, and three meals showed up throughout what was possibly daytime, disgustingly bland, lukewarm at best, and never, ever any dessert. Always a sandwich, or something not entirely unlike a hot pocket. Nothing that required flatware. Clothes and a towel showed up every second set of three meals, a hotel-sized bar of soap every third, but not so much as a comb — and certainly not even a disposable razor — to make using the the tepid sprayer in the corner anything like an actual shower.

Still.

He pressed careful marks in the crepe soles of his shoes, and — going by the assumption that three meals and a lights out was a day — it was two weeks before he saw any sign that the meals and changes of clothes weren't being left by pixies.

Three before he could start to feel the universe screaming at him to do something, even though there was nothing to bloody do.

On the second day of the fourth week, Riggins came for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from The Pixies’ Where Is My Mind?


	3. you can check out any time you like

Dirk fell face-first onto the cot in his cell. Really, he'd been longing for something to happen, but in sight of hind, this was _not what he had meant._ At all. He'd meant something like Todd and Farah coming for him. Even a Rowdy or two.

He hadn't wanted… that. And as much as he disliked the Rowdy Three, particularly their dietary requirements of terrified holistic detectives, the sight of Cross, ashen and ill after obeying their orders, wasn't something Dirk would wish on anyone.

Dirk didn't mean to sleep. He dreamed anyway:

_"Tomorrow, we try again."_

_"All due respect, ma'am, but are you out of your goddamn mind. It nearly killed him."_

_"I'm surprised at you showing so much concern."_

_"The subjects, yes, even project Incubus, are far more useful to us dead than alive, and do you actually want to see what happens when you have a zombie that can feed off not only flesh but psychic energy? Because that's what you'll get if even one of them is infected."_

_"That's a risk we're willing to take, considering the benefits, Colonel Riggins."_

_"And another thing—"_

_"You're concerned about using a member of Project Incubus to ensure the other members' cooperation."_

_"Ma'am—"_

_"Can you deny that it was effective?"_

_"No, of course not, ma'am. But I am saying that it could backfire in the fu—"_

_"And your concern is strictly for the project?"_

_"He's practically a_ child _!"_

_"I see."_

_"See what, ma'am."_

_"Tomorrow, we start again."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from The Eagles’ Hotel California.


	4. searching for psychics

Todd's guitar, finish weathered more than artistically at this point, all of the electronics replaced at one point or another, over the years, had been through a lot. Jimmy Marino in 6th grade knocking it off its stand and giving it its first dent. First broken friendship when Todd knocked out one of Jimmy Marino's permanent teeth. First band. Last band. Being slammed into a wall after miraculously surviving the Rowdy Three. Well. It would have needed a fair amount of love after that. But it was fixable. He'd known that. Todd had half-way been thinking about making Dirk help, teach him, since he'd seemed so impressed by Todd's electrical knowledge.

That plan, like most of the others in his life previously, lately, and ongoing, had gone to shit.

Instead, he'd carefully stashed his guitar in Amanda's garage, and was currently gulping down shitty gas station coffee three states away from Seattle and trying to get enough of a wifi signal to convince Amanda's laptop to go through another round of 'find the secret CIA base.'

What Todd really wished was that Farah was here. Well, what he really, _really_ wished was that Dirk was here, dragging them onto the next case, Amanda happy and driving into the sunset, instead of glaring at Todd at every opportunity. But since that wasn't going to happen, wishing Farah was here was the next best thing. Less than two weeks of knowing her, and she was already the most competent person he'd ever met. And if anyone was going to come through and get Dirk — and Martin and Cross and Gripps — back, it was going to be her.

But Farah was making a detour to San Francisco to meet up with some of her Army Rangers contacts. They hadn't been able to get her a job, back in the day, but one had implied they might have a lead. Vogel had given them as much information on Blackwing as he could, but he'd never been clear on the location of the facility.

Todd didn't want to think about Farah questioning Vogel, and forced himself to anyway. Listening in wasn't a tenth as bad as living through it, and it wasn't like Dirk — or even Vogel, who reminded Todd of every happy baby punker bouncing through one of his shows and screaming his way through a mosh pit — had the luxury of not thinking about whatever he was going through. Wherever he was going through it.

These were the things Todd now knew about Blackwing:

1\. They took _kids_ , and tried to exacerbate their powers, things like the hunches or the Rowdy Three's ability to feed. (They were making monsters, Vogel whispered, not bouncy at all, and Todd felt sick.)

2\. They broke some of their projects. (Todd remembered the woman who had looked at Dirk like prey, gun in her hand, until what could only be the universe told her not to.)

3\. Not all of their projects survived.

4\. Todd was never, ever, going to use the p-word — psychic — around Dirk ever, ever again.

5\. Vogel had only escaped a year ago, thanks to some very Rowdy interventionists. It wasn't his first escape attempt, and…

6\. They would do anything, anything at all, to retrieve their projects.

That last meant that Todd, Amanda, and Vogel were under strict orders to stay off the grid, lay low, not talk to anyone, use burner phones and drive the anonymous looking hatchback Farah had procured for them, definitely, definitely no credit cards, and meet her at a pre-determined set of coordinates in a week.

Todd felt like he was going crazy, and even if he would have felt like a total shit for screwing around with his guitar when his best friend was in the hands of an insane government agency, it at least would have given him something to think about besides wondering what they were doing to Dirk. Or the other Rowdies, though that was mostly for Amanda's sake. Todd personally was pretty sure that they could handle whatever Blackwing threw at them.

Instead, all he could do was try to lay low, avoid cops, road blocks, and possible secret agents. Wonder what they were doing to Dirk right now. And, selfishly, wonder how long it would be until he had another attack.

In the week and a half they'd been on the road, Amanda had had three, and Vogel had been there before she could cry out or Todd could try to comfort her or find her pills every time. He tried not to watch, but couldn't help it. The way Vogel looked at her like some kind of idol, or goddess. The way the expression of pain on Amanda's face would smooth out into something — not bliss, something deeper. Almost like enlightenment. What Dirk's face should have looked like when he was having a hunch, instead of a thoughtful frown, or completely normal.

 

***

 

_"…additional cases have been reported in New York, Los Angeles, and Dallas. Authorities stress that this flu variant, while only dangerous to the very young, very old, and those with compromised immune systems, is extremely contagious. Anyone exhibiting symptoms is urged to stay in their homes and to contact the CDC hotline at 1-800-…"_

Todd turned off the radio, getting a glare from Amanda. "I was listening to that."

"It was fucking depressing."

They weren't really talking about any more than necessary at this point, or about anything other than logistics and the next step to find their kidnapped friends. Still, certain habits — bickering on long road trips among them — were hard to break.

"It was the fucking news," Amanda shot back sarcastically. "Excuse me for thinking that maybe we should be listening trying to see if there's anything about Blackwing on it."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure they're really going to have it on the morning update. 'Scary CIA Group Kidnaps Anarchists and Holistic Detective. Stay tuned to find out where they went.'"

Amanda flipped him off but looked _hurt_ , and Todd flinched. Fuck. She didn't deserve that. And the Rowdy Three, insane as they were, were her people, too. "Amanda, I'm sorry, I—"

"Stop talking to me."

Todd opened his mouth to say something, but the finality in her voice cut him to the bone, so sharp it felt almost real.

 _Shit_.

The steering wheel felt like knives in his hands as he wrenched hard, ignoring the beeps and cursing from the other cars, fuck, had to get the car stopped, had to get the car stopped. He got the car stopped.

" _Fucking damnit, Todd!_ " He tried to ignore how she sounded annoyed more than anything, or how he could hear Vogel chanting 'Guitar boy guitar boy', over and over. Pills. He had pills. The bottle Amanda had abandoned at her house when she ran away to be a Rowdy. And they were carefully hidden in his backpack on the back seat, not anywhere like where he needed them.

Todd scrambled out of the car, fumbling, falling to hands and knees. "Pills." He managed to gasp.

Maybe it was the approaching attack, the way he could feel it building along his nerves, but Amanda looked like an avenging goddess. "Let him help you."

"No." It was his third attack since they'd been on the run, and it had been the same every time.

 

***

 

_The first time he'd started screaming in the middle of a gas station, Amanda nearly screaming herself until she figured out what was going on. She'd stared at him for ten whole seconds that felt like a life time before grabbing Vogel, already bouncing over. He'd seen how her pain had faded so immediately. He didn't deserve— didn't want—_

_He didn't know if she'd seen it or if he'd said it out loud. He knew she'd understood it, though._

_"You don't get to decide how to atone, Todd." Voice like the ice starting to run through his veins._

_"I'll take the meds. But not like that. Amanda, please." Afterwards, the two of them breathless, and Todd tried to ignore the tears sparking in Amanda's eyes._

_"When were you going to_ tell _me, asshole." Looking at him and then— "When I called you. When Blackwing came for them." He'd nodded miserably. She'd drawn in a shaky breath. "You're going to let Vogel help you. No one deserves that shit. Not even you."_

 

***

 

That was the first time at least. But it didn't feel _fair_ , Amanda had lived with the disease for years. And now what, he barely had to feel anything before Vogel was doing the creepy feeding thing. "I'm sick of your bullshit, Todd." Except it wasn't Amanda's voice, it was Dirk's, telling him to be better, to be good. He couldn't parse it, Vogel's hands outstretched over his, the pain draining away before it ever really started.

"Get back in the car, I'll drive for a while."

Todd couldn't even try to make a convincing argument against that.

Or to protest when Amanda turned the radio back on to the news.

_"…the hospital's official statement was that the attack was initiated by an individual suffering from drug-induced psychosis, biting several other patients and staff before being restrained…"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by Patricia C. Wrede.


	5. on a steel horse I ride

Ken hunched over the laptop. Todd would never, ever say that the search was _easy_ , it was certainly _smoother_. Dirk might say something about the universe, and getting all the right people together.

Todd thought it might have more to do with Ken's ability to make government computers sit up and beg.

"Alright. Once we get there, I'll be able to get you ten minutes with all of their security systems offline _tops_." He shook his head, laughing a little. They were going to get Bart _back._ "You're just lucky you found me."

"Luck had nothing to do with it. You can thank Amanda and... her..."

"Visions. Right. Yeah. That makes perfect sense."

"As much sense as anything else that's happened."

"Can we please focus?" Todd looked desperately between Farah and Ken. He trusted them. He did. But this was their one chance to get Dirk.

"I know the next part!" Vogel was grinning. "We get Computer Boy close so the timer can start."

Using the borrowed — stolen, actually — school bus as a battering ram was unsurprisingly Vogel's favorite part of the plan.

Farah looked at Todd. "And once we're inside, we get Bart and the Rowdy Three out _first_."

Which, as a nice counterpoint, was Todd's _least_ favorite part of the plan.

Farah looked at Todd. "You know I love Dirk, and we _are_ getting him out."

"I _know_ , okay. I get it. He's not the best fighter out of the group, and we stand a better chance of rescuing him if we can let the Rowdies and Bart loose first. I _get_ it."

It didn't mean he had to like it.

Amanda made her way from the back of the bus. She'd been blasting an old Mexican Funeral CD out the back of a bus on a jerry-rigged amp for miles. "They're about fifteen minutes behind us. I think. This is going to be bitchin'."

Todd really wanted to ask her if she was okay. She must have seen it on his face, and flipped him off.

Todd looked at the fence they were barreling towards.

_Hold on, Dirk._

"Dude, is that the van?" Amanda's baffled question was the last thing he heard before they Vogel coaxed just a little more speed out of the bus as they hit the gate.

 

***

 

Dirk had been, as per usual, trying not to think when, abruptly, there was a new case to solve. Quickly.

The lights had gone out off schedule, and then there was the _noise_. Initially it was a distinct _lack_ of noise, as the warning sirens had sounded when the lights went out and the emergency floor lighting came up, but even that had died with an offended squawk after a few seconds.

The noise though, was less mechanical and more of a chaotic roar. Banging, chanting and _it was the Rowdy Three._

The Rowdy Three were loose.

Dirk was running for the door, which was locked of course. "I'M IN HERE AND AMANDA WILL BE VERY CROSS IF YOU DON'T LET ME OUT." The noise was already moving away, and he could have wept except there was a click, and the lock on the door disengaged. Dirk wasted another moment wondering if it was a trick, but decided that even if the universe wasn't already urging his feet forward, he wasn't going to miss the chance to try.

Todd was already reaching for the door when he swung it open.

"Dirk!"

Todd was also already grabbing Dirk into a hug before Dirk could move, which was nicer still.

"Shit. Shit shit shit, Dirk, I really—"

Dirk couldn't even babble. Todd was _really here._ "You came to rescue me!" Todd grinned, and Dirk had never understood the phrase 'grinned like an idiot,' because Todd's grin was the nicest thing Dirk had seen in weeks and weeks.

"Yeah—" He broke off as there was a crash down the hall. "Shit. We have to go. Now."

Dirk couldn't stop grinning himself, especially because Todd was dragging him along by the hand as they ran through the labyrinth of hallways. "Is there a plan?" Dirk was absolutely delighted.

"Amanda's been gathering zombies for the last twenty miles. They'll be here any minute. Ken found a maintenance road that leads around the back of the facility. We steal a car, and drive like hell."

"Brilliant!"

 

***

 

Dirk actually stopped short as he and Todd spilled out of the facility and towards where Amanda had spotted the van. Considering the zombies coming from one direction and the Blackwing agents from the other, Todd nearly ran into his back. "Bloody _hell!_ Where did your _arm_ go?" Dirk considered it a valid question, in spite of their need to be on their way.

"Over there." Bart pointed, then went back to helping Farah put the tourniquet on an unconscious Ken's arm.

"Holy _shit_."

"What _happened?"_ Amanda and the Rowdies were close on Dirk and Todd's tail, and were already helping to lift him into the back of the van.

"Got bit." Bart didn't look away from Ken when she answered.

"Oh fuck," Todd whispered.

Bart shrugged. "Got bit in the arm, cut the arm off." And there was that, frankly terrifying, grin. "I was quicker'n a heartbeat. I got a hunch."

"Time to _go_ ," Martin growled from the van, and Dirk didn't even spare a single glance back for Blackwing _or_ Ken's former arm as Todd dragged him into the Rowdys' van.

They were free.

“Oh fuck,” Todd whispered.

Bart shrugged. “Got bit in the arm, cut the arm off.” And there was that, frankly terrifying, grin. “I was quicker’n a heartbeat. I got a hunch.”

“Time to _go_ ,” Martin growled from the van, and Dirk didn’t even spare a single glance back for Blackwing _or_ Ken’s former arm as Todd dragged him into the Rowdys’ van.

They were free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Bon Jovi’s Wanted Dead or Alive.


	6. tenderness on the block

"Even if they come, should be a while. Safe to hold up here for a while." Martin nodded at Amanda and glided the van off the side of the road. It was a good spot. Elevated, a sheer drop that the zombies would be unlikely to pile up high enough to climb on one side, narrow outcroppings scattered like sentinels. Not exactly a nice place to spend the night, all things considered, but miles and miles better than a bare cell in the Project Blackwing facility. Dirk watched, a bit bemused, as the Rowdy Three began to unload the van. They were moving like one head with several bodies. Or, several heads and one body and rather more than the standard number of limbs.

"Hey." Dirk broke into a smile. Todd. Todd was here. Not that he didn't know that, but it was still delightfully surprising. "You okay?" Todd looked so patient, waiting for Dirk to answer. It was lovely. But patient or not, he was starting to look a bit frownier at the length of time it was taking Dirk to answer, and that was quite unacceptable to Dirk.

"Oh yes. Quite. Just… thinking." Todd's mouth twisted a little, and there was something quite concerned in his eyes. Which Dirk simply couldn't have. Dirk was fine. Well. As fine as one could be when the actual living dead were at large. But he was no longer in the possession of Project Blackwing, and if the Rowdy Three were here, at least Amanda seemed to have them quite well in hand. It simply wouldn't do to have Todd thinking that he was traumatized, or ungrateful for the rescue. "I am afraid I owe you an apology, however." Well, he _did_.

Todd blinked. "An… apology."

Dirk gestured down at himself. Specifically, at the hospital-chic scrub top he was wearing. "They took my Mexican Funeral shirt. Well. All of my clothing actually. I know you haven't many left, and I _am_ sorry. But on the other hand, I didn't get shot! Which was your specific instruction, I might add." Dirk stole a look at Todd in the waning light. Really, Dirk would do far, far worse things than apologize to have Todd smile at him like that. Although it wasn't so much his small fond smile that snuck out specifically when Dirk was not looking and least expected it and may have only been imagined and certainly was only sighted in the last few days, nor was it the manic grin of Todd finally understanding that, yes, it really is the universe and fate. It was—

Oh dear. Todd seemed to be having some sort of fit. He was hunched over, and his breathing was very odd. Fast, wheezing. Dirk moved towards him and. Oh. Todd was _laughing._ Quite possibly at Dirk. Dirk was reasonably certain he should be offended, actually but it was. Well, it was entirely absurd to think of your best friend as beautiful, but it was certainly _contagious._ Dirk fought valiantly, but a single huff escaped. Then a guffaw, and then he seemed to be overtaken right along with Todd. "Alright, that's it, now you're asking for it," Dirk grumbled, then grabbed for Todd.

"Hey!"

"No, no, that's all there is to it. You're giving me your shirt, Todd. It's mine now." Todd zagged, or possibly Dirk zigged, but they suddenly were on the ground. Dirk still grabbing with great enthusiasm at the hem of what might very well have been the world's last surviving Mexican Funeral t-shirt.Dirk rather distractedly noticed the Rowdy Three stepping around them, they were probably used to it, but his attention was brought back when Todd gasped. A feint, a ploy, Dirk was sure.

"No, no, no, not _now."_ Dirk frowned. Todd sounded _distressed_. Had Dirk hurt him? He scrambled back. Todd was gasping, his hands curled into claws.

"Todd, what's wrong. What. Todd what's happening? Are you all right?" No, very clearly not. "Amanda!" Todd curled into a loose ball, but his hands were in front of them, and he was staring at them in blatant horror. No. Dirk had seen this happen to Amanda, that first day in the garage. It wasn't _fair_. "What's _happening_?" Dirk knew, he _knew_ , but he refused to admit it, not to himself. His hands hovered above Todd, not sure whether or not to touch. What to _do_.

"It's a pararibulitus attack." Amanda was standing over them, mouth set in a hard line, voice calm. The Rowdy Three had all gone quiet, nearly scenting the air. Dirk stiffened his shoulders. Amanda's friends or not, he was _not_ letting them near Todd in this state.

"He doesn't _have_ pararibulitus—" Which was absurd, of course he did, it was _happening right now._ "Why aren't you _helping_ him!"

Amanda looked down at her brother. If Dirk could think about anything other than Todd's eyes rolling back, increasingly mindless with pain, he might have thought she almost had pity in her eyes."We ran out of pills two days ago."

Todd was writhing, and screaming, and there was nothing Dirk could _do_. _"Help him."_ It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair to ask Amanda and he didn't care at all.

Amanda stepped back. "They are."

The Rowdy three were like an arrowhead, Cross at the lead. Todd _knew_ that look, they way they were moving slow and predatory, more leonine than their typical ball of chaos. "No." Dirk did his best to ignore Todd's pained cries even though they hurt, and stood up, expression stubborn. "You are _not_ —" He waved his hand to indicate whatever it was they did. "—on him. You're not. I will not have it."

Amanda grabbed his arm before he could try his CIA-approved karate moves. He was quite sure they wouldn't work on the Rowdies — they never had before — but he was not letting them do whatever it was they did to Todd, not while he was in this condition. "They're helping him, Dirk." Dirk jerked his arm free and crouched by Todd's head, glaring at them. It was not an effective line of defense. But they would in fact have to go through him.

They didn't have to. Almost as soon as they started doing their feeding… thingy, the lines of pain in Todd's face smoothed out and the near-screams faded off to something that Todd would probably be terribly put out at Dirk for thinking of as a whimper. Dirk gaped at the Rowdies, all of them with their hands out, Todd's blue light drifting into them like bioluminescent smoke, and dared a glance at Amanda, watchful and frowning. He dragged his eyes back when the feeding light went dark and Todd gasped.

"Todd!" Dirk looked around a bit wildly, but all of the Rowdies save Martin and Amanda were drifting back to the fire. Lazy. Sated. And there was something truly, deeply, unnervingly similar about Martin and Amanda's eyes at that precise moment.

"Here." Todd blinked at Amanda, then yelped when the bottle of water hit him squarely in the forehead. Martin huffed, shook his head, and went back to the others. Amanda huffed, shook her head, and followed Martin.

If Dirk were not entirely focused on Todd, and he was, really, he would have taken the time to huff at her retreating back, just for symmetry. As it was, Dirk hesitated, hesitated again, then managed to get his hand under Todd's shoulder. Although really he should have tried to open the water bottle first. And of course Amanda had more than fulfilled her limits of helping Todd for the moment. Dirk managed to get the bottle open after a bit of awkward bracing. "Here, drink this." It seemed to be the thing to do.

"Dirk…" Well, Todd wasn't unconscious. That was a start. A good start. Possibly less of a good start when he sounded a bit more like Bart than his normal Todd-ness, but Dirk was willing to take what he could get at this juncture. Todd coughed after the first sip, and the second. Dirk took the bottle away, and wondered if he should take the hand under Todd's shoulder away too.

"Why didn't you tell me."

It wasn't what Dirk had meant to say at all. He'd meant to ask if Todd was all right. But the answer being so obviously, 'better than before, but certainly not, Dirk, thank you very much for asking, though' made it rather redundant to ask. It was possible he sounded _slightly_ accusatory. It's not as though he would have tackled Todd to the ground and tried to _literally_ steal the shirt off his back if he'd known it was going to, you know, damage him.

Dirk was reasonably certain that was a glare, but Todd reached for the bottle again, and Dirk was forced to not remove his hand, and instead help Todd sit up a bit more. Dirk was getting quite enthusiastic over the helpful back banging. He was clearly brilliant at it.

"Well it's not like we've had a lot of time to talk."

"But we've had plenty of time to talk! There was when you broke me out of that facility — thank you again for that by the way — and we've been riding in the van together for nearly two days now."

"I didn't want to worry you, asshole!"

Dirk had omitted the truth to Todd a number of times. And Todd, clearly, had told a number of lies in his day, though he'd been much more honest since meeting Dirk. Dirk was an excellent influence. Dirk didn't know if it was a hunch (likely) or that he really was beginning to _know_ his friend (odd, delightful, possible), but he was quite sure Todd was lying now. At least partially.

Dirk considered his options, and while some people might have thought that he was, in fact, a pretty good detective, he wondered if perhaps that was not the best way to go about solving the case. "When did you first begin experiencing attacks?" He was very pleased at how professional he sounded.

And yes. There was the Todd Dirk knew and loved. Well, knew. Well, yes loved _and_ knew, but that was quite beside the point at that exact moment. And the point was, Todd looked a bit skeptical and bemused, which was a vast improvement over screaming and terrified. At least it was for a moment before he drooped again. "Since that day in the diner." It was quite clear to a detective of Dirk's not inconsiderable skills that Todd was not referring to the time with the drawing of a cowboy. "When you were…" Todd wobbled his hand a bit. "Taken."

Dirk looked at Todd, and while it might possibly have been construed as cheating, he felt it. The universe laying out patterns like Christmas garlands between events, actions, and the precise unhappy slant of Todd's mouth. And, to be fair, it wouldn't really take a psychic detective to understand. Just someone who was Todd's _friend_. There was clearly only one tactic to try.

"I am so sorry I wasn't there for you, Todd."

It was enormously gratifying to be able to surprise Todd, who was now actually looking at Dirk and seeing him, instead of whatever tangle of guilt and misplaced karma — at which the universe laughed, in Dirk's extended experience — and lingering pain. He was looking at Dirk like a crazy person. It was making Dirk quite nostalgic, actually.

"You were kidnapped."

Dirk grinned. "Is that any excuse when one's best friend is in horrible… nerve-wracking pain." Dirk didn't mean to draw out the nerve-wracking and make a face. It just sort of happened.

Todd looked at Dirk, and took a moment to consider. "Hey, Dirk?"

"Yes, Todd?"

"Come here."

Dirk leaned a bit closer. Did Todd need something? More water perhaps. One of Amanda's joints. "Ow!"

Dirk gave Todd a look he could only hope conveyed his deep, deep betrayal. Todd had punched him.

In the arm.

Like the day Dirk met Amanda (though with much more affection this time, Dirk was sure of it.) In fact, less like that than the way Amanda would sometimes punch Todd's arm (before) and, Dirk was quite sure, with universe-supported conviction, Todd had punched Amanda's in younger, happier days. "Help me up, asshole."

"I can't. I'm injured. We may possibly need to—" Dirk could have cursed his mouth. Amputate. He bounced to his feet and grabbed Todd's wrist, helping him haul himself upright.

Todd, bless him, moved right past Dirk's faux pas. "You know, you were in captivity, like… three days ago. I really should be helping you."

"Lame leading the lame, I assure you," Dirk said, breezily and decidedly ignoring Todd's grunt. He was preserving Todd's dignity. He was a _fantastic_ best friend.

To be fair, he only led Todd as far as a convenient log of unclaimed firewood, settling him on it and then slumping down next to him. And if he was close enough their thighs happened to bump, well. It wasn't a very large piece of firewood. And Todd looked as though he might topple off backwards without someone to catch him.

"Hey Dirk?"

"I will absolutely not fall for that again, I have done nothing to warrant being abused, Todd." Or, rather, that was what he meant to say, but it trailed off into a jaw-cracking yawn. In Dirk's defense, it had been a tiring couple of days.

And months before that, though that was something he was quite firmly resolved not to think about.

Instead, he would think about the warmth of the fire the Vogel was carefully tending, and the warmth of Todd's thigh against his through the thin scrub pants. Pristine white now absolutely filthy with the grime of zombies guts, road, and general escaping, and he really would need that t-shirt at this rate. "What was it?"

"Never mind." Dirk really must have been exhausted, Todd sounded quite fond to his ears. "Come on, you're not sleeping here."

"As though you could do anything about it." Todd elbowed him, which was quite bony, but not as sharp as the punch.

"Vogel'll take first watch. It's cool." Dirk made some mumbles of protest, but Todd was standing, rather unsteadily, and Dirk simply couldn't have that, so he launched to his feet. Then swayed. Ah. Perhaps he was tired at that. Entirely too tired to feel awkward about draping his arm around Todd's shoulders, Todd was recovering after all.

"Lame leading the lame." Todd was not nearly as quiet as he would like to think when they tottered unsteadily in… some direction, and Dirk poked him in the side.

"Where?"

"Pallet in the back of the van. Amanda said the guys sleep under the stars."

"Oh."

The floor was highly questionable, but the… it wasn't a mattress. Collection of cushions was more accurate. Whatever it was, dubious or not, it looked more welcoming than it had any right, and Dirk let himself fall face-first on it.

There was silence. Not even the sound of Todd shuffling away, and the van blocked so much of the starlight. Not as dark as lights out at the facility, of course, nothing could compare to that total blackness. Dirk rolled over, squinting desperately. Todd was still propped against the back of the van. "Do you think you might…?" Dirk refused to finish the question. Not least because hearing how tentative his own voice was, even he cringed, just a bit.

"Yeah… Uh. Yeah." A slow, shuffling progress and Todd managed to get himself into the van on the bench the Rowdies hadn't removed to the fire. It seemed oddly easier to breathe with the sound of another person in the van, especially Todd. He just wanted to keep an eye on Todd at all, be on hand if he had another attack. "Good night, Dirk."

"Good night, Todd." Dirk was asleep before his eyes closed.

 

***

 

Dirk woke up hot and to gradual and increasing dappled sunlight in his eyes. Nearly feverish feeling, and he realized the sun was blazing into the back of the van. They'd really only had it for a few days, but it already smelled of the Rowdies, a stale beer and leather-scented oven. His back was, to coin a phrase, attempting to murder him — weird, considering his back _was_ him —, his mouth tasted like the wrong end of a horse — strange expression, wo really tasted horses, of either end. The French, he supposed —, he'd never, and he urgently needed a piss and a shower, not necessarily in that order. It was nothing at all like the way he had woken up for the last few months, and in spite of his still-shod feet hanging out the back of the van, it was the happiest he'd woken up since sleeping on Todd's couch.

Speaking of Todd, there was no Todd in sight, but there was a certain burning smell that indicated breakfast. Dirk sat up, daisy bright, and was about to bounce out of the van when he noticed something pooling in his lap. A black fabric something. Certainly not large enough to be a blanket and was, in fact, a t-shirt shaped something.

Dirk could feel his face stretch into a manic grin. Not _his_ t-shirt (though he suspected it was his now). But it was indeed a Mexican Funeral t-shirt, none too clean, and covered with strange glyphs. Dirk opened his mouth in an exaggerated grimace and made the sign of the horns to match his lovely new shirt. Perfect. He wiggled out of the old, and into the new.

The sun was shining, the zombies were hoarding, and somewhere beneath all the grit and grime he smelled a bit like Todd. It was going to be a fantastic day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Warren Zevon's song of the same name.


	7. postcards from the edge of the zombie apocalypse

It wasn't the first time Todd had lived on the road, basically out of a van. The basically made a big difference. Because even on the sketchiest Mexican Funeral tours, there was usually a shower. Almost always a shitty diner they could pool together a few bucks for a burger and steal each other's fries. Todd would literally murder someone for a french fry. People buying them drinks at whatever dive bar they were playing. Usually some friend-of-a-friend's couch, maybe a hotel room, four guys to a double, if they were lucky.

It wasn't even living out of each other's pockets. You got used to that, nudity and snoring and Daniel the Drummer shaving his pubes in the bathroom sink.

This wasn't that.

There were similarities, sure.

Swap shitty laundromats for rinsing out in a stream, or waiting in line at a pump if one of Dirk's hunches led them somewhere that still had running water. Bathing was mostly in run-off frigid streams, then huddling too close together in the van to warm up afterwards, or running around desolate vistas, because the Rowdy Three wanted to smash some undead heads, and yelling was as good a way as any to draw them close.

New things became familiar in the same way, though. Farah yelling at them to use iodine tablets on the stream water before drinking it, Vogel saying the only safe thing to drink was beer.

Dirk frowning sadly at his reflection in the van's passenger window, using it as a shaving mirror and always managing to miss at least one spot, and nick three others with the aging blade and poor reflection. The way he always looked smug when he still managed to get his hair to lay absolutely perfectly (mostly because Todd had found some product the last time they raided a grocery store and left it next to Dirk's head while he slept).

The constant, looming threat of death was different, sure, but in some ways it was almost like a gig.Martin would scent the air, or Dirk would get a hunch and they'd pull over. Make some noise, and game on.

The way that every morning Todd would stumble out of the van or tent or abandoned treehouse or just-out-of-grabbing-range-hammock he would see the same thing. Dirk in an undershirt, a dented aluminum camping mug full of questionable water in one hand, razor in the other, frowning at what he could see of his reflection in the van window or sideview.

It usually ended in bloodshed, though fortunately not the kind that meant missing limbs, or actual death.

 

***

 

The thing that felt most like the band was the stories that always made him laugh, hysterically and too long and with tears pricking his eyes, whenever he thought about them.

They drove to the Grand Canyon, because why-the-hell-not. Dirk said that why-the-hell not was Todd's version of a hunch. Todd wasn't sure, and they'd 'is not' 'is too'd' until Amanda threatened to gag them. Vogel had cheered them on.

"Have you ever been here before?" Even the Rowdies were quiet, tucked in with Amanda, and Ken had managed to convince Bart to be quiet and just watch the afternoon sun set the redrock on fire. Todd shook his head. "I uh, was going to. With Mexican Funeral. We had a gig lined up in Tempe, and it was sortof on the way." By a given definition of 'on the way.'

"So what happened?" Dirk sounded skeptical, and Todd couldn't blame him.

"I sold all their equipment and said it was stolen."

"Ah."

It was funny how it almost didn't hurt to say that now. Almost didn't feel bitter and nauseous in the pit of his stomach. The moment rested between them, heavy and quiet. Not unpleasant. There were more of those lately, Todd noticed. Tried not to notice.

Instead he just let himself notice Dirk's grip adjusting on his shovel. A weird preferred weapon, but Dirk seemed to like it, and Todd had helped him grind the edge to dangerous sharpness. Todd was pretty sure it wasn't the same shovel they'd used to dig up the time machine. Mostly sure. It would be just like Dirk to somehow find that exact shovel though. "We about to get attacked?" Dirk's hunches were getting pretty reliable about it.

"I think so, yes." Todd adjusted his grip on the crowbar. The metal was warm from the desert sun, and yeah, he might be about to die — which was a pretty usual thought these days — but you couldn't have picked better company or a more beautiful spot. "Try and stay back from the edge."

"Is that a hunch or just good advice?" Todd was bouncing on his toes a little, adrenaline from the impeding fight starting to get to him, almost like the energy before a concert.

Dirk didn't get a chance to answer, letting out what could generously be described as a squeak as a cluster of the undead emerged from the piñon trees they were standing near. They looked almost mummified from the desert air, and Todd was only a little disturbed to realize that they'd been doing this long enough he was comparing the relative grossness of different zombies. They backed up, keeping the group of shamblers between them and the rim. There were about twenty of them, and it looked like they might have been on a tour group; one still had a professional looking camera hanging around their neck.

It was on.

Todd tried to keep an eye on Amanda, even though he knew it was an exercise in futility, she was moving en masse with the Rowdy 3, yells echoing out across the sky. Bart and her machete were sending zombies over the edge in pieces, and Ken — who'd become a damn good shot with his remaining arm — was picking off zombies from the edge of the crowd.

"Todd!" Todd managed a headshot as he spun. Shit. Dirk was too close to the edge, trying to watch his footing and hold off a tall, badly decayed zombie at the same time. He was mostly poking with his shovel, trying to guide the zombie closer to the edge without putting himself in tripping distance.

Todd swore. "On my way!" Which would have been easier if Cross hadn't just run through the crowd of zombies, doing his best impression of a human bowling ball. Effective, but one of the flying bodies had nearly knocked Todd off his feet, crowbar going flying. "Weapon!" He screamed, because fuck. Dirk had maybe a minute of dancing around left before shit got serious.

Looking back, Todd wondered if that was what a hunch felt like. Mostly it just felt like nailing an improvised solo.

He heard Vogel gleefully crow out "Bat!", and lifted his hands to catch it on pure instinct. He felt the old Louisville slugger thunk into his hands, solid, easy catch leaving it in a perfect grip, and was swinging his way through the crowd. When he reached the edge, Dirk had managed to drop his shovel and was trying out his definitely-not-CIA-approved karate moves on the zombie. Todd spared a moment to be glad he was holding a bat and not a crowbar to get stuck in the skull, and squared up, a memory of ball practice, Amanda saying he couldn't hit the broad side of a barn from the stands. One beautiful home-run swing, and the zombie went sailing into the canyon like a ball over the fence.

Dirk looked absolutely delighted. "I didn't know you could do that!"

Todd managed a breathless smile. "Uh. Little League." And then a pointed look. " _Shovel_."

"Oh, right." Dirk grabbed it and dove back into the fray.

"And stay away from the edge!"

"Excellent advice, Todd, thank you!"

They wound up back to back, taking shots and thinning out the herd, and just like that, Bart's machete was taking the head cleanly off the last of them, then ambling back to the picnic table, like they hadn't just been fighting for their lives. Farah was checking over Amanda for injuries but didn't look too concerned, and Todd grinned at Dirk.

"That all of them?"

Dirk was breathing hard, but beamed. "Well, no, never, but all the nearby ones, I think."

They laughed a little, breathless. It shouldn't be fun. They almost _died_ , but Todd had just home runned a zombie off the edge of the Grand Canyon, and Dirk was looking at him like it was the best day ever. Which he usually did, but somewhere along the line, it had started making Todd feel like a goddamn hero for getting to share that look.

He caught Dirk's eye. "Wanna piss off the edge?"

Dirk huffed out a little snorting laugh, the one that Todd kinda loved. "More than anything else in the world."

It was a beautiful moment. It didn't get less beautiful when a late-to-the-party zombie finally managed to groan its way out from a piñon pine clinging to the canyon rim. Dirk screamed. Fuck, if he fell forward — he didn't, and Todd was scrambling with his fly, scrambling back, and — Amanda later told him with heavy judgement — repeating the word 'fuckshit' over and over like a chant.

Bart came out the hero in that one, throwing a rock with perfect aim. It hit the zombie square between the eyes and knocked it back enough to fall over the edge. They heard the long, chilling groan trail off after a while, but there was no thunk of it hitting bottom.

Martin ambled over, all the time in the world and cocked his head, sniffing the air. " _That_ was the last one."

"Fuck." Todd said it one more time for good measure, then glanced over at Dirk. They were both on their asses, feet way too close to the edge, dicks hanging out. Dirk had his _tie_ on for fuck's sake. Todd felt it before it happened, but it was too late. The laugh. The one from that first stop after Blackwing, the one that said 'we almost died, and this is the stupidest situation I've ever been in since yesterday.' Dirk looked so _offended_. Except he was laughing right along with Todd, and the canyon was throwing it right back to them, laughing along.

"You almost fell over after him." Dirk said, worried through the laugh, and that set Todd off again. Both of them laying back in dirt so red it could dye cloth.

"I never!"

Todd would think of that moment, years later, and hear Dirk's laugh echoing back to him like a ghost. It should have scared him, how close they came, but instead he'd just remember the delight in Dirk's eyes when he'd swung the bat, and then the two of them laying back, laughing and laughing.

 

***

 

There were other memories, though. The hot spring they found, and Dirk looking longingly at the steaming water. Knowing they couldn't, not with the way zombies and their lack of breath would lurk just under the surface, the water not nearly clear enough to see if the pool were safe.

Dirk turning away from it and slipping on the moss and steam-slick rock, falling backwards with a splash.

Todd was pretty sure his heart stopped for just a second, then Dirk's head popped out of the water. For half a second, he looked like a terribly affronted cat, then beamed. "Todd the water is _fantastic_."

"Get out of there, asshole." Todd was not panicking, he was _very carefully_ making his way down to the hot spring to pull Dirk out.

Dirk actually pouted, then stretched out his hands over the top of the water. "I am. But it's so nice."

Todd only remembered the next part in flashes. The expression of pure, unadulterated bliss on Dirk's face, and the twist of guilt when Todd wondered if he'd look like that if they ever— if he—

The faint, aborted scream when he was suddenly sucked under, too fast for Todd to even reach for him.

Reaching blindly now, Farah at his side, and maybe it was the universe or pure dumb luck, but each of them managing to grab one of Dirk's wrists, and pulling as hard as they could. The way Dirk's skin felt, slippery and over-heated under Todd's hands when he checked for bites, Dirk's eyes wide and terrified. Not recognizing his own voice ragged and terrified, "no, fuck no, not like this no fucking no, jesus christ, fuck fuck fuck." Dirk's hands on his shoulders, shaking him. Finally understanding that Dirk was saying, not for the first time, "I'm fine. Todd, it's all right. I'm fine, it's all right, it didn't get me. It didn't get me, I'm fine."

Crushing his stupid dumbfuck idiot best friend into the tightest hug possible, and hoping there was only one, hoping that Farah had the presence of mind to finish it off, because he couldn't let go, the end of the world fucking _sucked_ , and he couldn't _do this_ without Dirk, without his stupid dumbfuck idiot best friend, and maybe he was saying that and maybe he was crying a little, but he really fucking couldn't.

He tried not to remember that.

He didn't succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by Carrie Fisher. RIP, General.


	8. relationships that start under intense circumstances

"That's it. This has got to stop."

Dirk brightened every day, pausing in his so-called shaving ritual to beam at Todd for yawning and slouching his way out of the van. Todd was starting to think of that smile as the closest thing he'd get to coffee ever again, but it quickly morphed to a frown. "What does?"

Todd waved his hand at the razor and the dingy, blacked out window he was using as a mirror.

"If you keep slicing your face open, it's going to get infected."

Todd may have still been waking up, but that looked like an honest-to-god pout. Todd thought, not for the first time, Dirk was actually going to kill him. "Well I'm certainly not growing a beard just because we're in _slightly_ awkward circumstances, Todd. After all, I like to maintain my appearance for our clients—" Todd hoped his eyeroll clearly indicated that there was not another human besides themselves, living or undead, for miles, and that the hunch Bart had that morning had also included a hunch to slow down, likely to keep the intersect points correct for traveling caravans of murder victims and or clients. "—Potential clients anyway. And you may look fine with a bit of scruff, but just because I can appreciate the lumberjack chic aesthetic doesn't mean—"

Todd was not mentally equipped to deal with that speech without coffee, which they did not have, and by the way Dirk's eyes went a little wider when he caught himself, neither was he. Not that Dirk even liked coffee, Todd remembered. "Look, just. Come here, okay?"

Dirk sighed. It made a nice change of pace from Todd sighing at Dirk. "Sit." He pointed to the van's bumper, and grabbed the disposable razor and the camping mug away from Dirk.

"Todd?" Dirk put dozens of questions into Todd's name, all of which Todd ignored with a vengeance.

Dirk's eyes looked almost teal grey in this light. Todd ignored them and carefully scraped the razor over Dirk's cheek. "Hold still."

"And you really expect me to believe that you even know how to shave. I have never once seen you with anything other than _that_." Todd figured he should probably be offended at the hand waved towards his face. "It's very nice stubble, of course, and it does suit you. But—"

Todd huffed. "I know how to shave, asshole. Stop _talking_." Dirk very obviously and exaggeratedly pushed his lips together. Todd rolled his eyes a little more, then went back to focusing. It seemed easiest to guide Dirk by making faces, stretching his own lower lip down, fighting back a smile when Dirk oh-so-seriously mimicked him. Definitely not biting back laughter when a little foam went up Dirk's nose and he had to wrinkle it valiantly to keep from sneezing.

It felt like some strange mirror game, but Todd was focusing, damnit. On getting Dirk's cheeks as smooth as possible, not missing any chance spots. It wasn't like he could really spare the attention for the faint pink sunburn on Dirk's nose, or the few freckles that had started to appear along the tops of his cheekbones. Or the increasingly obvious silence that was replacing the normal clatter of the Rowdies arguing over breakfast.

It wasn't even like this was the first time he'd spent this much time staring into Dirk's face, there'd been the time digging up Patrick Spring's time machine and the pink bandaids, smoothing them over Dirk's forehead. But he hadn't been tracing around the curve of Dirk's mouth, then.

Todd was very, very conscious of Amanda — or everyone, probably — watching him and ducked his head down to look at the cup when he swished the razor in it. He was also very conscious of the warmth of Dirk's breath against his face.

"Okay, um. Chin up." Todd frowned in concentration and rested two fingers on the hollow at the base of Dirk's throat, holding the skin taut. He could feel the tops of Dirk's collarbones, the way he was helpfully trying not to breathe. Todd dragged the razor up, slow and steady, pivoting around Dirk's Adam's apple, gliding up to his chin.

It was sort of like a concert, Todd thought, since about the only thing he could hear now was nature and Dirk's breathing. You focused, you knew people were watching, but you didn't let it rattle you into a mistake. Todd was a goddamn professional. He could do this for Dirk without making it weird, or thinking about the length of Dirk's neck, or wondering what it would taste like.

The thing about lying as much as he had was, you always knew when you were lying to yourself. "You're done."

The smile Dirk had been obviously, carefully suppressing broke free. "Thank you, Todd." Damnit. Dirk's voice sounded deeper than usual, husky and sweet. "You're an excellent assisfriend." He swallowed, and Dirk was still close enough to see his throat work.

Todd took a quick step back, shoes scuffing in the dirt. "Any time."

Dirk bounced up to check himself in the window, absolutely beaming as he ran his hand over his cheek. Todd went to brush his teeth, which was not the same thing as running away at all.

"Dude." Amanda was balanced on a boulder as if the extra height would help her eyebrows get just that little bit higher, and she aimed a kick at him as he walked by.

"Shut up."

 

***

 

The next day Dirk woke up before Todd — like always — and was waiting, razor in hand when Todd stumbled out of the van, still yawning and cracking his back. Dirk had just settled in, beaming, when Todd yawned in his face.

Dirk had wrinkled his nose at Todd's morning breath, called it appalling, and told him to come back when he'd brushed his teeth. Todd had implied that maybe it wasn't such a great idea to insult the guy holding a literal razor to your throat, but Dirk had just smiled, soft with total trust and tipped his head back to let Todd finish up, lower lip caught between his teeth.

"I'm gonna go brush my teeth."

"What, right now?"

"Yes, Dirk. Now."

Todd leaned against a friendly tree and brought himself off quick and dirty and hating himself, because what kind of asshole would offer to do a nice thing for his friend and spend the whole time wondering what Dirk would look like with his mouth stretched pretty and red around Todd's dick, not even able to keep enough control to _finish_ doing said nice thing the first time before he had to touch himself to keep from kissing Dirk. And then keep doing it every day for an excuse to spend ten stupid minutes every day looking at said friend's face up close and personal, touch vulnerable bits of skin. Dirk hated it when he called himself an asshole, but sometimes… it really was deserved.

It became a thing. The shaving… and Dirk's face behind his eyes when he touched himself.

It wasn't like it was new, liking a guy. Hell, the band had all lived out of each others pockets, and even there'd been more than a few half-stoned handjobs in shitty hotel rooms, inappropriate crushes on and from people you spent _way_ too much time with, and their bassist the bicycle.

Dirk was different.

In more ways than one.

Maybe it was that he actually liked Dirk, and he hadn't really liked the guys in Mexican Funeral that much when it came right down to it.

Maybe it was the way Dirk sulked all fucking day the times when they had to on the road early, no time for a shave. Cases to solve, people to kill, undead heads to smash.

Maybe it was the way Dirk sometimes let his eyes drift shut in pleasure when Todd was shaving him, then snapped them back open like he couldn't bear to miss anything.

Or the way Dirk's hands would sometimes twitch against his thighs like he wanted to do something, or maybe just needed to release energy while the rest of him was so still.

Running away to jerk off the second time Dirk offered him his throat aside, Todd would like to think he was handling things pretty well. He had a crush on his best friend. Whatever, people had crushes on people, even friends, all the time. And it was the apocalypse, you had to take your nice things where you could find them. If Todd didn't have wholly pure intentions, or at least thoughts, when he was touching Dirk every morning, he kept it to himself. It was cool. And so what if he jacked off, they all did, it was part of life. Dirk did, too, it's not like you could really control where your mind decided to wander when you got close. Proximity. Proximity and adrenaline and friendship, that was it.

Of course, there was also the problem of siblings. "Dude, you are like, pining."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You know, Todd, for someone who's lied as much as you did, you're _really_ bad at it."

Todd flipped her off.

 

***

 

Some things about road trips — even one in a short bus (dilapidated van, more accurately) to the end of the world — was universal. Arguments over the music that Dirk inevitably lost, stretches of road that would make anyone wonder if they were the last people alive. Fuck marry kill. Long, rambling conversations about the source of the zombies, who would win in a fight between Batman and Superman, the greatest band of all time. Dirk, loyally and in spite of never hearing them play, had said Mexican Funeral, and Todd had covered up his smile by rolling his eyes.

Even with cases, with following Dirk's intuitions or the Martin's nose to some miraculously untouched cache of gasoline or food or running water, with small hoard attacks, or dodging big ones, they were surviving.

 

***

 

"That's it, I'm out." Todd dropped to a log by the fire, sweating and winded.

They'd stopped for the night under the stars. Amanda had, after reassuring Todd that she had a small cache of meds, and was with both Farah _and_ Bart (and Ken, of course), gone to track one of Bart's hunches. "Won't be gone long," Bart had rasped, and Amanda really wanted to try out her new machete. Amanda may have tolerated Todd, and even forgiven him on a trial basis, but any efforts to exert advice or control were met with hostility and threatening gestures from the Rowdy Three, so that had been that.

Dirk had persuaded — dragged — Todd into joining him and Vogel in a flailing dance that had felt good, but it was still more fun to watch Dirk windmill his arms around, making ridiculous expressions. Gripps was helping Cross roast… he didn't want to know. Possibly a bird of some kind, maybe a raccoon, over a spit.

Todd cracked another beer, feeling damn good. It had been days since his last pararibulitus attack, Dirk had kept knocking against him when they were dancing and Cross had found beer on their last supply raid.

Dirk collapsed down next to him with an exaggerated pout. "You're not dancing anymore."

"I'm _resting_."

"You're also not _sharing_."

Dirk made a grab for the beer, and Todd leaned back, laughing. "Get your own, asshole, there's _plenty_." Okay, plenty for a normal crowd their size, which, given the Rowdies' abilities, meant it might last the night if they were lucky.

"No, no, I'm afraid not, I want that one." Dirk was grabbing, and had a slight reach advantage, but Todd had grown up with a younger sister, he knew how to play keepaway and he leaned back.

"What is your obsession with my stuff anyway — first my shirt and now my beer—OOF." Todd was laughing, and Dirk had taken advantage to knock him off the log.

Todd held the can up triumphantly. He hadn't spilled. Much.

But gloating led to ruin, and Dirk plucked the can out of his hand deftly. "I think you'll find it's my beer."

"Yeah, yeah." Todd hauled himself to his feet, all smiles and good-natured loser. Which really should have tipped Dirk off. Todd waited until Dirk was licking foam from his lip and grabbed, grinning at Dirk's pout when Todd stole the can back. Just a little left, and Todd raised it to his mouth.

Dirk pounced.

A brief tussle, and Dirk had Todd pinned, grinning in triumph, can rolling off somewhere, Dirk's hands around Todd's wrists.

Huh.

Todd squirmed experimentally, looking for an opening, testing Dirk's grip. That grin looked good on him. Looked good this close up. And—

Fuck.

Dirk was hard.

They seemed to realize at the same time, and Dirk let go, pulled back, blushing hard and looking faintly horrified at himself.

"Yeah?" Todd heard his voice go rough, didn't care.

"I… that is. I didn't mean— well I did but." Dirk was blushing, and Todd wanted to kiss him.

And if they kept this up much longer, they were going to have a hell of an audience. "You want to get out of here?" Not that there was anywhere to go, really, but it was the thought that counted. Fuck. Dirk's face was always so, so painfully open. And somewhere between lust-dark eyes, the way Dirk kept licking his lips, and pure bright and shining hope, Todd had an answer.

"Yes?" Todd gave him a skeptical look. "Yes." Oh. Oh yeah. Dirk's voice had gone throaty and deep and Todd was so on board with this. A quick glance to confirm the others were engrossed in anything other than Todd and Dirk rolling around, and Todd grabbed Dirk's hand, dragged him further from the fire. He was not thinking. He was a little buzzed, a lot turned on, and he'd been thinking about this for so long, he was _not_ thinking. He didn't stop, just grabbed a blanket that was hanging out of the back of the van and kept moving until they were just out of sight, then let his body lead, leaned up — except Dirk was already kissing him, lush and wet, tasting like stale beer and barbecued raccoon and fuck, Todd never wanted to stop. They almost died. Every day they almost died but they were alive now and Todd had wanted this every day, even before the world decided to end, from that they first started trying to dig up Patrick Spring's time machine and Todd was pushing Dirk's t-shirt up to get his hands on more of Dirk's skin, anything he could get and—

Dirk was talking into his mouth, mumbling something over and over. Dirk pulled back, wishing there was more light, he wanted to see. "Can we— can we just—?"

Todd frowned. Shit. "Anything. I mean we don't have to do anything you…"

Dirk huffed out a sigh, looking exasperated at not getting the words out, and grabbed the blanket from Todd, flinging it down in some semblance of order, kicked out of his shoes, and lay down, arm open in invitation.

_Oh_.

Todd could work with that, and dropped down fast, stripping off his shirt as he went. He kissed Dirk as soon as it was off, then again, because he could, greedy and too fast and trying to keep from making too much noise. An occasional burst of laughter, and Todd really wished he could say they were all Dirk's. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, but he remembered bright, tipsy flashes: How good Dirk felt under him, all long limbs and hot, soft skin. The feeling of Dirk's teeth on his collarbone when he finally got Dirk's pants open, curled his hand around his cock, the vibration of the groan Dirk was trying to stifle. The sweetest little whimper when Todd licked his hand and wrapped it around both of them, stroking together.

The way Dirk couldn't stop kissing him.

The way Todd came first and it made it so slick and easy to keep stroking Dirk, lapping at the hollow of his throat like he'd been starved for it, and only the darkness gave any kind of cover to the naked pleasure on Dirk's face.

The very, very obvious silence after Dirk cried out, high and sweet and not remotely close to quiet when he came, and they both looked at each other, still gasping for breath, and started laughing.

But had stopped pretty fucking quick when Todd started licking his hand clean, in between slow, lazy kisses with Dirk.

Todd could have kept up those kisses all night, but sleep caught up with him too quickly. He'd managed to roll over and drag Dirk on top of him, petting his hair and back and letting Dirk use him as a mattress against the frankly miserably hard ground. The last thing he remembered before drifting off was Dirk's hand curling around his.

 

***

 

"You make an _excellent_ mattress, Todd, wonderful assisting."

Todd groaned and flailed a little. Except he couldn't really flail much, because he was, in fact a mattress. There was a sharp rock digging into his hip, and his back was killing him. "Heavy."

He was also hung over.

And had gotten laid last night.

With Dirk Gently.

_Fuck._

He was not panicking. Stupid Todd, stupid, stupid Todd.

"I don't think you get to call me 'assistant' anymore after last night," Todd grumbled. Sortof. He couldn't make out many of the words, and he was the one saying them.

Dirk just beamed at him. "Assisfriend at least."

"Ow." Seriously, that smile was brighter than the sunshine currently stabbing into his eyes, and he wasn't sure which hurt worse. He could feel his hangover in the palms of his _hands_ , it was that bad.

In the palms of his hands.

_Fuck_. Just what he fucking needed this morning. He shoved at Dirk a little, whose grin didn't falter (much, Todd acknowledged), but did roll off. Todd sat up, realizing he was still wearing his shoes. The thought almost made him laugh, but he felt another twinge and curled his fingers against it. He forced himself to keep to deliberate, careful motions, zipping up his pants, grabbing his tanktop, fucking thankfully they'd used it to cover up a little in the night.

"You're getting dressed?" Dirk sounded bewildered, almost hurt. Todd ignored it. He could feel it coming and he could not deal with Dirk half-naked and _looking at him_ like that while Todd got exactly what he deserved. "I thought we could…" Dirk fidgeted with his hands a little, looking hopeful and smiled at Todd, shy and almost hopeful.

"I'm gonna go wash up." Todd could hear how curt his voice sounded, see the waver in Dirk's smile, but he couldn't let himself think about it. Not now. He had to get out of here. He forced himself to return the smile, not sure how it came out, but trying to be reassuring. "It's cool. Really. I get it. Friends." Because he was Dirk's fucking friend, he just had to get the hell out of there right fucking now. There was a small voice inside him that sounded a lot like Amanda that was saying 'wow, dismissive as fuck, bro,' sharp as knives. He didn't care what he was saying, he didn't know, he could feel it building, the yellow sky before a tornado. Todd patted Dirk's thigh, and it felt like broken glass, then staggered to his feet.

Dirk was saying something, Todd could see his mouth moving but couldn't make his ears work. Todd just shook his head, smiling, still smiling, and stumbled further away from camp, past some bushes. He didn't even make it all the way behind a tree before he dropped to his knees. Not glass, but razor blades, rusty and shattered, coating his hands like he'd dipped them in metal and squeezed, and oh fuck oh god it hurt so much make it stop make it stop and Dirk was ten feet away and Todd couldn't — he couldn't — He didn't want to look but he had to and his hands were never going to be fucking whole again and he couldn't scream, couldn't scream, he dragged one arm to his mouth and bit down, only a little pain compared to his hands, anything to keep himself from making a sound.

"Stop that." It was Cross's voice, cutting through the haze like ice, and he could feel blood dripping over his hands, metal grinding against the bones of his knuckles. Todd tried to look up at him, but he could already feel it, the Rowdies, clean blue light that felt like a peppermint bath should feel, and the visions. Endless night sky, stars desert bright. Blinding sunlight, and a zombie charging him, the stink of it hot on his face — Dirk's face, the kind of devastation that Todd couldn't even start to understand, and Todd reached for him could see his bloody hand reaching for Dirk but of course it wasn't real. It wasn't real.

Todd fell back with a gasp. The pain was gone, nothing but light tingles, like a numb limb waking up from being asleep, and a sense of tiredness. His hands were whole. Calloused and beat up from a lifetime of guitar strings and almost a year on the road, but whole.

"Todd?" Todd could hear Dirk's voice, hesitant and hopeful, and it wasn't as though Dirk hadn't seen him after an attack before. But not today. Not after last night.

"I'm fine," he said, and knew it came out too-sharp, could hear it, but that was good, that was fine. Then Dirk wouldn't come see him like this all over again.

"Oh." Todd pretended he couldn't hear the hurt in Dirk's voice, gave himself a count of three, and then struggled to his feet to help pack up.

 

***

 

Amanda had bounced back into the group, full of stories about how Bart had taken off a zombie's head with a machete and it was _sick_ , and Farah had made a head shot using the _reflection in Amanda's eyes_ , and it was the coolest cool to ever cool. Todd just hoped he could make it through the day without throwing up. He was grateful for Amanda talking, really, the silence would have been even worse, but the noise and the diesel fumes and the hangover weren't doing him any favors.

And he could feel Dirk, very carefully, not looking at him.

"Dude." Amanda kicked him in the shin, and he realized it wasn't the first time she was addressing him. "You look as bad as you did when you were in the _band_." Todd grunted.

"OOooooo story story story." Vogel was practically _bouncing_. Todd thought meanly that Lydia Spring had actually _been_ a corgi and not bounced as much as Vogel was right now.

"This guy…" Amanda smirked. "Well, when he wasn't fucking groupies, I'm pretty sure he was drinking through the entire cheap whiskey supply in the pacific northwest."

"Fucking groupies?" Shit, shit, shit. Todd closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the bench. Dirk's voice was faint, appalled.

"Yep. Love'em and leave'em. Didn't you, Romeo."

"Drop it, Amanda." Todd didn't open his eyes.

Amanda didn't miss a beat. "I think it was because he played in a band. I mean there was literally no other way he could get that many people to sleep with him." He could hear the grin in her voice, a little malicious. "Did you even know their names?" Todd opened his eyes enough to glare at his sister.

"I said drop it."

"Touchy."

Todd would have given just about anything for the conversation to be over. Up to and including a zombie attack.

Perverse lover that the universe was, for once in his miserable life, Todd's wish was granted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Speed. "You know, relationships that start under intense circumstances, they never last."


	9. freedom's just another word

"Stop!"

Martin was already stepping hard on the breaks when Dirk felt — and yelled — it. The universe slotting into its zombie-shaped place. Which, frankly was far preferable to listening to Amanda, fantastic as she was, talk about Todd's band slut days.

Love'em and leave'em.

But Todd was his friend, and Dirk was trying very, very hard not to think of how Todd had been so, so chilly, like the early days of their acquaintanceship which, Dirk could admit to himself now, had been a bit painful. But perhaps he was just hungover, or shy about the Rowdy Three knowing he had sex — odd considering their nightly near-orgies. The universe wasn't giving him any clues at all, aside from a little itch of anxiety that might not even be flow-of-the-universe related. So really, a blessing in disguise that there was a small hoard approaching that they absolutely had to stop and deal with.

 

***

 

In sight of hind, Dirk really wondered if he should have paid better attention, since the melee they opened the doors into could, delicately put, be considered a fuck of clusters.

"Well this is a clusterfuck," Amanda said gleefully, baseball bat in hand as she dove out of the van.

"Right, that's what I meant."

Witty repartee aside, Amanda was, as usual, correct. Although most of the walking dead were _thoroughly_ entranced by the small family holding them off from the top of an RV with four flat tires, the rather distinctively loud rumble of the Rowdies' van had drawn at least a few's attention, and Cross's 'Dinnertime!' had pulled more in.

Dirk thought rather wistfully of Farah-led raids, which tended to have some sort of strategy besides 'emerge swinging, continue to do so until all threats smashed,' but he managed to flash a small, hopeful smile at Todd — who was still looking rather zombie-green himself — and give a CIA karate approved war cry.

Dirk — in spite of over-representing his defensive skills somewhat when initially meeting Todd — was, like all of them, getting better at battling the undead. Given the comparative amount of time he'd been doing so, he thought he was doing quite well, actually, though Farah forcing training sessions on all of them probably helped, too. The universe, gently nudging him to spin around here, or duck there, didn't hurt either. For once.

The peripheral _awareness_ of Todd was nothing new, and remained slightly distracting especially in light of recent more or less unclothed events, but also seemed to be a contributing factor in Dirk's contributions to the battle. Or lack thereof.

Dirk squeaked in pure terror when a zombie groaned right in his face and _really_ , couldn't the universe have seen fit to warn him. But his aim was more or less true, and the thing was dispatched, then onto the next.

Having actually survived (barely) a time loop, Dirk was well and truly familiar that time could go a bit wonky from time to time (as it were).

So he could see Todd suddenly struggling, although he'd been holding his own moments before.

Could see him fall to his knees, curling around his hands and yelling in surprise and pain.

(Dirk ducked to avoid the zombie that he'd been fighting, and was now not-fighting in favor of staring at Todd.)

Amanda left on her own against a group of three zombies when she shoved Vogel towards Todd.

And then things got worse.

 

***

 

It didn't take the universe to tell Dirk Todd wasn't going to like what he was going to say. And while a part of Dirk kept whispering to himself, on endless loop 'you deserve to be alone, you're a monster, you deserve to be alone', what he was really thinking of was the zombie, so very very close to Todd, already screaming and helpless, no matter how much he wouldn't thank Dirk for thinking it.

The fight had gone from normal to, frankly, bloody difficult after Todd had dropped. It turned out that feeding distracted Vogel enough to nearly get a bite taken out of him himself, and Todd had been staggering after the attack, slow.

A target. Trying to hold his own, but Dirk had watched him nearly _die_ once, twice, three times, and felt like his world was ending every single one.

It had taken them too long to dispatch what should have only been a minor group, and Amanda's leg would be out of commission — thankfully not from a zombie bite, just a bad fall to avoid one — for days.

In short, they'd all come a lot closer to dying than they did normally.

"You know what you gotta do, Icarus." Dirk pouted at Martin, though it didn't really have an effect.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're—" But he _did_ know what Martin was talking about, especially when he was looking at where Todd was trying not to hover over Amanda (trying not to get caught, rather, as she got a bit shouty when he did.) Dirk slumped. "He's not going to _like_ it."

Martin shrugged. "He'll like it a lot less if he's dead. Or Drummer Girl. Or you."

Dirk's shoulders curled in on themselves at the very idea. Right. He could do this. He was protecting Todd, really. And the people Todd cared about. Squaring his shoulders, Dirk wandered over to smile at Amanda — she returned it as always, talking about how 'bitchin' ' the scar she would have would be and, determinedly: "Todd, a word?"

Todd looked startled, and guilty, which was not, all things considered, a promising start. "Yeah, sure." Mumbled, and with a final look after Amanda, followed Dirk as he walked.

Really, there was no point in delaying further though.

"I think that next time you should probably guard the van." Dirk could hear his voice wobbling when he said it.

"What."

"Guard… the van? It's an important job, and it'll put you out of harm's way — no, sorry, not like that, just that then there's not the chance of you having a… you know." An attack. Followed shortly by a zombie attack followed by someone having to put down his best friend, and Dirk couldn't deal with one single one of any of those thoughts.

"Attack. You think I can't help because I might have an attack." Dirk had thought Todd sounded unfriendly that morning, but really, it was nothing to how cold and flat he sounded now. "Just until we can figure out a way to prevent them! Or at least manage them, and—"

"You can't manage this shit. You know that as well as I do." Dirk wished more than anything Todd would actually _look_ at him, it would make this all so much easier. Perhaps then the universe would help him along, give him a clue in Todd's face of the right thing to say. "Amanda—"

"Amanda hasn't had an attack during a fight," Dirk said, because, well, it was true. "Which _likely_ means that you'll eventually be better at, you know, seeing them coming."

"Right, so I'll just sit here and wait to be useful." They stopped, and Dirk got around to face Todd. Todd's face neither provided a clue of the right thing to say, nor was promising.

"Todd you had an _attack_ today—" Dirk was feeling quite desperate, actually, and knew it told in his voice. He was about to carry on with 'you could have _died_ ' but— Todd flinched. Like when he was avoiding a lie. "You had… more than one attack?"

" _Drop_ it, Dirk."

"How _many_?" Todd had been _hurting_ , and Dirk hadn't been able to help. Ohh perhaps that had been why. No, wait, priorities. Not solving the case of Todd's morning grumpies, trying to have Todd not be mad at him.

"I said—"

"Because really, that just supports the point." Dirk really did sound hopeful. "The, er, illness is strong because you didn't have it earlier—" Yes he was _absolutely_ on the right track, he was sure of it. "And so eventually, you'll be able to see them coming and get out of the fight so that you can… you know, and then come right back in."

Todd… didn't look reassured. If anything he looked _furious_. "I'm _dealing_ with it, okay. It's none of your _business_."

That stung quite a bit actually, but Dirk laughed. "Todd, don't be ridiculous, of course it's my business. You're my very best assisfriend, and we did, after all—"

Dirk intellectually knew that a voice did not, in fact, have the power to drop the temperature ten degrees and the sun go behind storm clouds. Todd's voice was so cold it wouldn't have surprised him if it did, though.

"Just because we _fucked_ —" Oh. _Oh._ Dirk didn't really hear the rest of what Todd was saying, thinking of Amanda's groupie stories and. Really, he shouldn't have expected more.

"Nevertheless." Dirk was perfectly aware his eyes were welling up, but pressed on as best he could. "Amanda and Vogel almost died today. _You_ nearly died today. I know It really is best if you stay back from the actual fighting for the forseeable future." Dirk took a deep breath. "Maybe we'll be lucky and it will all be over by the time you're able to participate again. The Rowdies and Farah agree with me." It was the wrong thing to say as soon as he said it, Dirk _knew_ that. "I mean. I meant." He meant that to be a _good_ thing, that all the zombies would be dead and they could go back to the detective agency.

"Fuck you, Dirk." Dirk tried to grab his hand to apologize to explain, but Todd was already turning on his heel and striding back towards the van, the very picture of pissed off.

_"Shit."_

 

***

 

Todd avoided Dirk as best he could for the rest of the day. Dirk who thought he was _useless_ , who thought that the apocalypse would literally end before he got his shit together. It was by sheer happenstance that Todd was close enough to the van to see Dirk and Vogel cross paths.

Hear Vogel say, "Hey, groupie," as he scrambled to load the tent onto the roof rack

Dirk was walking like he was on a mission, ducking away from Vogel to get another armful of their supplies. Fuck. Todd was pretty sure Dirk hadn't heard it, but it didn't fucking matter. Todd was having a shit day, a shit year, and Dirk probably wouldn't have cared even if he'd heard, but there were no zombies to smash, and Todd did care. Maybe he was just Dirk Gently's fucking dead-weight friend who couldn't even defend himself and made stupid decisions like sleeping with his best friend and ruining everything, but Dirk was still better than that.

If it hadn't have been Vogel, if the Rowdy Three hadn't been used to not seeing Todd as much of a threat, he probably couldn't have managed it. But Todd had him pinned against the van in less than a second. "Don't _fucking_ call him that."He was practically hissing out the words, and he was pretty sure he looked dangerous. He felt dangerous, and there was an ominous sort of silence that probably meant he was about to get his ass handed to him by Martin.

Todd backed off with one final warning glare and Vogel threw up his hands, muttering about feeding Todd to the zombies.

All things considered, Todd wondered if that might be preferable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Bobby McGee, written by Kris Kristofferson and Fred Foster, made famous by Janis Joplin.


	10. all the roads we have to walk are winding

So that was that.

Todd didn't think at all about how Dirk had gone to pieces under his hand, or smiled into their kisses. Because why think about that when he could think about how he'd almost gotten them all killed, how Dirk thought he was a _burden_.

How Todd's stupid fucking illness, had screwed everyone he loved when he didn't have it and was faking, and now was doing the same thing but worse when he actually had it.

How he'd hurt Dirk all over again, which he'd sworn to himself he wouldn't do after the pier.

Todd snapped at Dirk whenever he tentatively tried to talk to him, at the Rowdy's for no reason, at _Bart_ , which got him worried looks from the people who cared to worry.

Todd tried not to notice that list still seemed to include Dirk, and stormed as far away as he could, hating himself for not storming further.

Rinse, repeat ad nauseam.

But really, that was that.

They'd slept together, they weren't going to do it again, Dirk thought Todd was going to get them all killed, and it was fine. It was just fine. Dirk went back to slicing his face to ribbons every morning, waking up and done long before Todd was up and about. They'd all stagger around the campfire — assuming they hadn't been attacked in the night — then start the day's slow progress looking for food, following a hunch, and spending hours cooped in a van rotating drivers and telling tall tales.

It was just like whatever passed for normal these days.

And if Todd always managed to be sitting squashed between the rowdies, or next to Amanda, and never, ever next to Dirk, it wasn't a big deal. Their shoes still knocked together sometimes. Dirk would move them back like he'd been burnt, but it was _fine_. It was the new reality, stopping when Martin smelled something and Todd _guarding the van._

And, okay, he'd been able to crawl on top, spot approaching groups, shout out warnings, and get backup weapons to people, but it wasn't the same as helping-helping. He couldn't even use one of Bart's many guns, too much of a chance of hitting a non-zombie.

He could determinedly work on his aim, let Ken give him quiet pointers though. It wasn't much, but it was _something_.

Something.

 

***

 

Home for the night was a gas station. Tanks long since empty, but it had a tall, flat roof good for camping, and a few showers ran cold, but did run. Todd wound up with a face full of Dirk's ass while they scrambled up a low hanging tree, and and tried not to notice how they both flinched.

Amanda and the Rowdies were piled up on a loose nest of blankets and jackets, and Dirk and Todd had tried to give them what space they could by silent, mutual agreement. Just because they— they were— it didn't mean his sister should be deprived.

Todd hated this. Hated the silences that stretched between them, where there used to be easy bickering, rambling discussion. Secrets.

He missed his friend.

 

***

 

It was quiet. It should have felt ominous, but it didn't, not really. He could hear Dirk's breathing — he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to sleep again without it as background noise, slightly huffing breaths and occasional nonsensical murmurs. Todd could never pick out any words, but it hadn't stopped him from trying when he couldn't sleep. He tensed a little when he heard Dirk suck in a sharper breath. He listened, but Dirk's breathing steadied out again. Nothing in the night, either, in case it was a sleep hunch, if sleep hunches were even a thing.

Todd drifted a little, looking up at the stars. They were so bright now that the power was gone in most places, enough that he could tell they were washed out by the near-full moon.

Shit.

Todd sat up quick, that was an actual whimper, and it sounded like Dirk's heart was fucking breaking. Todd's stomach clenched. "Dirk?"

A lower moan. It's not like any of them were strangers to nightmares, not now, but Dirk was— Dirk always had a smile. Always was so damn happy to have his friends with him at the end of the world. And it wasn't that things didn't affect him, they did, but—

Todd didn't have a word for the sound Dirk made just then. Not loud, but _hurt_. Maybe the sound of a wounded animal. Maybe the sound a kid would make, alone in a government facility and lonely and scared. Todd needed it to fucking stop

"Dirk. Hey man, come on." Todd crouched next to Dirk's head, just enough to see the furrows in his brow. Despair, so different from his usual smirks and grins and delight in the whole wide world. His sleeping bag's zipper had long since given up, and it was tangled around him.

Dirk shook his head, eyes moving rapidly behind his lids, and Todd cursed himself for a coward, grabbing Dirk's shoulder, and shaking gently. "Wake up. You're safe."

Dirk came awake all at once, gasping and flailing his arms wild enough to almost catch Todd in the nose, but he ducked.

And didn't let go of Dirk's shoulder.

"Todd." It was more of a gust of a sigh than a word, and Dirk relaxed slightly.

"Yeah. You okay?"

Todd couldn't say that he'd had pararibulitus attacks that hurt less than Dirk's laugh, but it was close. "Are any of us?"

"Dirk."

Another sigh. "I'm fine, Todd. It was a bad dream. I get them, you get them, I'm sure even the Rowdy Three get them. I'm sorry to have troubled you."

And that— now Todd was getting pissed. "You're not _troubling_ me, asshole. You're my friend."

It took too long for Dirk to answer. "Am I still?" Todd could only hope that Dirk didn't feel his flinch.

"Yes." Quietly. And he'd lied by omission, he'd said horrible things when he was angry, but he'd never once directly lied to Dirk, and he wasn't going to start now.

No matter how little Todd had been acting like it.

No matter how much he knew it wasn't obvious to Dirk, and might never be.

Dirk sat up a little and Todd thought that, after everything, he should probably let go of Dirk's shoulder. He didn't. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Even in the moonlight, Todd could see Dirk flinch. "No, I'd really rather not, thank you."

"Okay." More gently, and he squeezed Dirk's shoulder on instinct. "Okay."

The silence stretched, but for the first time in a long time, it wasn't uncomfortable.

"You think you can try to go back to sleep?"

Dirk made a face. "I suppose I should try, shouldn't I." Nightmare or not, Dirk sounded so _put upon_ , and Todd had to smile, just a little. "I could take first watch?"

"Try to get some rest." Another squeeze, and when Dirk leaned into it, Todd tried not to overthink, and scooted a little closer. It was only a little cool at night, but the warmth felt good.

"Do you think you could— that is. Would you." Todd tried to think back, Amanda frowning at him from the foot of the bed, hair in braids. She hadn't had a _nightmare_ , she wasn't _scared_ or anything, she just wanted Todd to talk to her or maybe play guitar a little. To be there while she fell back to sleep.

"I could talk for a while?"

Dirk's breath finally released. "Y-yes. I'd like that. Please." Hesitant, and not Dirk-sounding at all. Todd tried to squash the instinctive self-loathing, and found that it was a little easier when he could focus on Dirk needing him to do this. When Dirk slid down, Todd almost let his hand fall away, but he watched with something like amazement as Dirk covered it with his own, squeezed. "Thank you." A bare whisper, and Dirk curled up on his side, back to Todd.

Todd forced himself not to react, not physically, not change his breath, not anything when Dirk let go. He let his hand slip further down Dirk's back, just resting for a moment.

"You know what I was thinking about today?"

Dirk hmm'd a little. His back was still tight and tense under Todd's hand, and Todd thought longingly of a real bed. The herbal tea he could make that Dirk would wrinkle his nose at, but still drink and warm up and calm down. Somewhere safe.

"I was thinking about the kitten."

Todd felt the jerk under his hand, but he heard an aborted laugh, too, so maybe it was okay.

"I mean, she could still be out there," Todd continued, keeping his voice low and steady and easy. He rubbed a slow, firm circle on Dirk's back, then started straightening out the sleeping bag — more of a quilt at this point — while he talked. When he got Dirk covered, he didn't hesitate, just started rubbing his back again.

"Well if anyone could survive a zombie apocalypse, I do think it would be a shark in the body of a kitten."

Todd smiled a little. "Exactly. I mean, maybe somewhere in the Cascades, there's this little black cat, and every time a zombie even thinks about messing with her, this giant psychic shark goes apeshit on them." He'd done this with Amanda too, when they were kids. Tell her stories about her stuffed animals, or her drum kit. Make them into protectors and guardians.

"God, wouldn't that be something."

Todd heard the unusually quiet rustle of leather and chains and saw Vogel amble away from the pile of Rowdies for his turn keeping watch, and flashed him a quick thumbs up. He got flipped off for his trouble, but at least now he could keep his focus completely on Dirk. "Probably the only cat that would really like swimming too, y'know?"

"Tigers like to swim, actually."

"Bullshit."

"They do! I went to the zoo, after, well. After." After Blackwing, Todd filled in the blank. "And they had this tank that you could walk to. And these lovely striped tigers would dive in just like penguins, and try to reach you through the glass." Another pocket of silence while Todd waited for Dirk to talk. "You know, I'd never had a pet before." Todd's hand stilled, then started up those slow circles again.

"We had a dog. Well, he was supposed to be mine, but Amanda kinda claimed him. And Amanda had a bearded dragon. Smaug." It wasn't a big deal. Lots of people didn't have pets growing up, but Dirk… Dirk should have. Something to love and protect and cuddle. To go on adventures with. To keep him from being alone. But it wasn't like the CIA was going to give him a kitten on Christmas morning or anything. Todd murmured out a story about Amanda and the lizard, mostly nonsense, but distracting. He hoped distracting. Dirk wasn't saying anything, but his breathing was steady.

Fuck.

Too steady, carefully and deliberately so, and then… _not_. First one hitched breath then another, and tiny, stifled noises under his hand. Dirk was _crying._

"Dirk?"

A small noise of denial. And fuck. _Fuck_. He'd lost the right to do this, he knew that, but. He couldn't deal with Dirk making those sounds, couldn't let him cry alone, he really couldn't. No one should, but especially not Dirk.

Not Dirk. His stupid detective best friend who was trying like an ass to be brave, even though it couldn't possibly matter right now, or ever again. Who, as long as he had his assisfriend and his Amanda and his Farah and even the Rowdy Three, didn't care if it was a case or the end of the world or what had passed for a regular Friday night before. And Todd knew better, he'd known better from that day sleeping in the jeep, digging up Patrick Spring's time machine that it was, if not a front, something pretty fucking close. He didn't say it was going to be all right — he'd stopped lying to people he loved, after all — he couldn't offer anything except to show Dirk he wasn't alone. He squeezed Dirk's shoulder, then stroked, gently, almost petting.

"Don't go." Dirk should never, _never_ have to beg Todd for anything, and he couldn't do anything to make Dirk believe that, so he did what he could, the only thing he could.

"I won't." Todd said it like a promise, and slid his arm back to Dirk's shoulder. Carefully, so carefully, he lowered himself down until he was loosely spooned behind his — behind Dirk, and let his arm slide down over Dirk's heart. It was easy to tug them just a little bit closer together, chest to back, thigh to thigh. Easy to remember how good this felt. How well they fit. Even if Todd's ass was mostly off the edge of the sleeping pad. "I'm right here." The only comfort he could offer.

Another of those hitching breaths. "I'm sorry about—"

"Don't." Todd didn't think that Dirk was apologizing for the nightmare, and his stomach twisted. "Just…" He found Dirk's hand and held on. "Don't."

"But—"

"We can talk about it tomorrow, okay?"

"You mean that?" Dirk looked over his shoulder, but his face was still mostly shadowed, unclear. And the thing was, Todd did mean it. He wanted to fix this. Even if his stupid crush had broken everything. He wanted his friend back.

"Yeah." Dirk squeezed his hand like a vise, and Todd held back. By Dirk's slightly watery sigh, maybe he believed it. Todd shifted a little closer, thumb worrying a small circle against Dirk's hand.

It took a while for Dirk's breathing to even back out. Even longer than that to ease back into slightly whuffling breaths and small murmurs. Even then, Todd waited to make sure there were no more whimpers or flinches before he pressed a careful kiss to the nape of Dirk's neck, then let himself start to drift. Breathing deep, though. That was pure, selfish indulgence. "You're not alone," Todd whispered, barely more than breath. Dirk shuddered a little in his sleep and Todd froze, but Dirk just relaxed more deeply, letting out a long sigh that left his body finally relaxed, melting back against Todd.

Yeah. Tomorrow.

 

***

 

Todd couldn't remember waking up feeling this good, maybe ever. His back was killing him and his arm was completely dead. But he felt warm, and there was something soft and silky tickling his nose.

Someone warm in his arms.

Todd remembered the night before, and let himself drift between sleeping and waking for just another minute. Or two. As long as he was asleep, he could keep holding Dirk. And yeah, maybe he'd realized that Dirk's breathing wasn't sleep-soft anymore, but Todd was asleep, damnit.

And Dirk wasn't trying to extract himself.

If anything they were pressed closer than when they'd fallen asleep.Dirk had managed to maneuver Todd's other arm under him so that he was completely surrounded and their legs were tangled up. Dirk was being so, so carefully still, but his fingers betrayed him, fidgeting and running restless circles around Todd's hand. Todd couldn't help it, he squeezed them a little and heard Dirk's breath catch.

"Morning." Todd only really realized that his mouth was tucked right behind Dirk's ear when he felt him shiver.

"Good morning." Dirk's voice was cautiously, carefully _happy_.

It was a good sound on him.

"Uh, you sleep okay? I mean any more…"

"No, not one."

"Good."

They should be getting up. He could hear the Rowdies moving around, starting to throw the gear off the roof so that it could be loaded onto the van.

Neither moved.

"I have had another hunch, however."

Todd smiled. "Oh yeah?"

"Yes. It's… that way—" Dirk waved his arm generally east. Todd could almost hear him frown when he realized that meant a slight loss of contact. Heart pounding, Todd took a chance and reached out, closing his hand around Dirk's forearm and tugging it back.

"That way, huh."

"Yes." Dirk's voice was a little higher than usual.

"Good hunch?"

"I hope so." Huskier, now, Todd knew he shivered a little himself this time.

"Hunch we have to leave now for?"

A little sigh. "I do think so, yes. Farah will meet us there, along with Ken and _Bart_." Todd could practically hear the nose wrinkle that accompanied her name in Dirk's voice.

"Okay." Todd said it easily, and he felt Dirk relax a bit. Todd didn't question how Dirk knew, not anymore. "Time for a shave?" He could actually feel Dirk smile. It shouldn't have been surprising when they were so big and bright, but he still could, and for once in his life, Todd felt 100% like he had done something right.

"I'm quite certain the universe will allow that, yes." Dirk bounced up, and Todd started the slow process of wiggling the life back into his dead arm, then realized something was blocking the sun from being completely blinding. A Dirk shaped someone, holding out his hand expectantly.

Todd smiled, and let himself be hauled up.

"Tonight. When we stop for the night, I mean…?" Todd hadn't forgotten last night, and he watched something complicated that looked almost like hope cross Dirk's features.

"Yes. We can… Yes. Talk. This evening."

Todd knew he was grinning like a maniac, but as he went to stretch and find Dirk's razor and then a place to piss (not in that order), he couldn't find it in himself to care.

 

***

 

They didn't talk in the van, but that was fine. Or, at least they didn't talk about… that.

They traded stories, Dirk shared some of his favorite cases, even the one involving the secret fraternity when he was at Cambridge, and Todd responded with shenanigans he'd gotten into with Mexican Funeral. Amanda kept having _elaborate_ conversations with Gripps via her eyebrows, probably about Todd, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. It was as close to normal as things had been since the world ended. The Rowdies howling and laughing along whenever anyone had a good zinger, even if it was at their expense. Theories on how Farah was holding up with Ken and Bart on their adventure. Dirk simultaneously sweet and sly — no, Todd _still_ was not going to be his _ward_ , honestly. A shared can of beer that was well and truly skunked — and mostly wound up all over them. Pockets of silence that weren't uncomfortable.

"So this case." Hunch, psychic thingy, but Dirk looked so much happier when Todd called them cases, and after breaking Dirk out of the CIA facility, he had an idea why. "Any clue what it is?"

Dirk shook his head. "Just that it's important that we're all present. I'm sure it will work out, as long as what or whomever needs our services is there!"

Todd ducked his head because if he smiled right now, he knew what it would look like, what it would give away, and Amanda would kick him, and probably say something, and he didn't want to break the fragile, careful peace they were building.

Amanda kicked him anyway, and he grunted.

"Oops," she said, unconvincingly.

Todd rolled his eyes, but realized it might be too late to stop the smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Oasis' Wonderwall.


	11. mama, they try and break me

"And you're sure this is where he'll be?"

Riggins grunted at the agent, not taking his eyes off the crowd. Miserable survivors, if you could call them that. They looked as rough as any Zombie hoard. "He'll be here."

 

***

 

It was hot. Miserably hot and crowded, too many people who'd gone too long since their last shower. Todd knew, intellectually, that Texas was big, and that there were lots of different parts, but all he could think of was old John Wayne movies and mirages. The camp itself looked Wild West rough, and Todd honestly would have rather stayed away from other people.

That wasn't anything new, though.

Still, Dirk had a hunch, and he could look forward to tonight. Ride high on the way he'd let his hand brush against Dirk's when they got out of the van. Although they'd tried to stay together, Dirk had been convinced that separating was key. Something about a flock of starlings ebbing like a school of fish, combined with Todd tripping over his shoelaces at the exact moment that they split out a third line to run past the dogs. Martin looked like he wanted to protest, and Todd didn't like the idea of letting Dirk wander off on his own, but Amanda backed Dirk, and the Rowdies backed Amanda, and that was that. By unspoken agreement, Cross trailed Amanda and Gripps followed Todd. Just in case.

There were too many people around. Most of them didn't look like they'd seen a bath since the start of the war, all were underfed, and there were a few squabbles breaking out. But the camp had rations, rumored clean water, and even a med tent. It was on a natural plateau, and there were some defense towers set up. He could see the dogs, able to scent even the early stages of the zombie infection as soon as they were able to transmit, long before they slipped into a coma and reanimated. Waiting at the front of the line to scent the survivors, make sure none of them were a time bomb

Todd had tried to keep his eyes on the others, occasionally losing sight, but he caught a glimpse of Dirk's bright jacket, and couldn't help the grin that split his face. But Dirk turned from whatever animated conversation he was having with the person behind him in line — probably to their great relief — and caught sight of Todd, his face lighting up brilliantly.

Yeah.

Todd was fucked.

 

***

 

Dirk, contrary to what _some_ might believe, was fully capable of focusing on several things at once. It was rather part and parcel of the whole being-able-to-see-that-everything-is-connected thing.

And yet, catching Todd's eye, smiling as though he was happy to see Dirk. Well, it tended to drive out all other thoughts.

They were going to _talk_ tonight, and Dirk had woken up in Todd's arms. Today had felt _good_ , normal — no, a million miles better than normal. There was a new case, and even if he missed Farah, well, it was just like the agency, the whole future alive with possibilities and friends and cases and, yes, zombies, and no, Todd still couldn't feel a case if it clobbered him over the head, but the important part was that Todd was smiling at him, and Farah was on her way and it was just like—… it was just like…

Just like that day in the diner.

 

***

 

Farah had objections, strenuous and repeatedly stated, to Bart driving. Unfortunately, thus far, they had always been overruled.

Still, Bart slamming on the breaks so hard the car fish tailed, then did a true 180 until it was pointing back the way they'd come made her sit up sharply.

Before she could protest, Ken was already leaning forward intently, looking at bart. "Something you gotta do?"

"Not me." Bart looked at Farah. "Her."

 

***

 

Dirk felt something crunch slightly, and looked down. It wasn't a flyer for Lux Dujour — _we'll never let you go_ — but a scrap of paper, military orders:

_Detain Project—_

The rest was caught under his foot, but it was enough.

A stocky figure in body armor near the dogs at the front of the line, too clean and sharp to be a civilian, or even standard protection.

The low, eerie moan of a zombie scenting food.

Could see it, breaking off from the crowd and—

Todd still smiling at him, but now cocking his head in a question.

Dirk's mouth wouldn't work, but the crowd was starting to notice the moan, and he could see Todd hear it, pick up the tire iron that he'd been holding only lightly, letting it rest against the ground.

Dirk would never, ever forget that Todd glanced away from the threat when Dirk screamed out his name. Just for an instant, but it was enough. Dirk was fighting through the crowd, shoving and cursing; he'd lost sight of Todd in the crush of humanity. It couldn't have been more than a few seconds, but when he pushed through, Todd was on the ground. He was fast enough to see the ghoul crouched over him, its head ducked to Todd's neck in some horrible parody of a vampire. He saw Martin's bat swing, knocking the thing off Todd with a clean hit, but, whether adrenaline was slowing things down or it was the universe showing him exactly what he already knew to be true, he could see blood, flesh between the thing's teeth when it went sailing off.

Someone was chanting nononononononononono, and Dirk thought it might have been himself, but it didn't matter. The important thing, the only thing, was to get to Todd. He fell to the ground like his knees had been cut from him, dragging Todd's head into his lap.

He didn't need a doctor or an expert to tell him what he could easily see, what the loose ring of survivors around them could see. A freely bleeding wound on Todd's neck and shoulder. He'd been _gnawed on._ Even if it had been an arm, or a hand, no Bart with her heartbeat swift machete to have already cut away the infected limb. It wasn't fair. It wasn't _fair_. This was Todd, his _friend. The universe could not have him._

It didn't matter, death already did, even if Todd's eyes were still open.

There was blood on his teeth when he opened his mouth, and Dirk knew he was hysterical but he couldn't stop, Todd's name over and over again, begging for help, as though the Rowdy Three could somehow feed off this the way they had off his pararibulitus. Like the CIA wanted, and he dimly knew that he should be running, should be getting Todd and running but.

Todd was reaching for him, hand lifted weakly — There was _so much_ blood, Todd's blood should be inside him, where it belonged. — and touching Dirk's face. Dirk grabbed on, lacing their fingers together and holding. Todd had touched him there this morning, rubbed shaving cream into his skin, then washed it clean after. He was trying to say something, no sound coming out but a weak groan of pain, blood on his teeth, but Dirk could make out the shape of his own name.

"It's all right Todd it's going to be all right you're fine you'll be fine please be fine I'm here. Todd — Todd keep your eyes open you must TODD."

Dirk was aware he was saying — screaming — Todd's name over and over when Riggins and his men hauled him away from Todd a moment later, no amount of fighting or biting — Amanda had taught him well — could get them to stop. He felt the prick of a needle, then everything went soft and dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chatper title from Metallica's Hero of the Day.


	12. please allow me to introduce myself

**EXCERPT FROM TRANSCRIPT OF SERGEANT HUGO FRIEDKIN DEBRIEFING, LOCATION <REDACTED>, SESSION ONE**

 

**< REDACTED>: **You're telling me you lost all of them.

**FRIEDKIN:** Well, it wasn't exactly—

**< REDACTED>: **Answer the question.

**FRIEDKIN:** Kinda. Um. Kinda, ma'am.

**< REDACTED>: **Explain.

**FRIEDKIN:** Well. Brotzman got bit at the camp. But it wasn't a zombie, so I thought I could use him for leverage, you know, make Project Icarus more cooperative? Because, like, they're friends so—

**< REDACTED>: **Wasn't a zombie.

**FRIEDKIN:** Right, ma'am. So anyway, I thought—

**< REDACTED>: **How did you know it wasn't a zombie?

**FRIEDKIN:** Well, um, it was really messy like a zombie, but the dogs were still kinda quiet. And it, er, she, I guess, blinked! And in training, the obstacle course, they said that zombies don't blink, like, their eyes are weird?

**< REDACTED>: **You're saying you knew it was a Quisling?

**FRIEDKIN:** Right, ma'am. The crazy people that thought they were zombies.

**< REDACTED>: **A Quisling.

**FRIEDKIN:** I don't, uh, remember the name. Sure.

**< REDACTED>: **Continue.

**FRIEDKIN:** Yes, ma'am. So, um, Colonel Riggins took Project Icarus, and they said he's too, you know, attached. So I thought I should have a back up plan.

**< REDACTED>: **And that's why you took custody of Brotzman.

**FRIEDKIN:** Right. Cause, um, Project Icarus always talked about him. A lot. When we had him at **< REDACTED>**. 'Cause, like, he still was bleeding a lot. So we took him to the med tent.

**< REDACTED>: **We?

**FRIEDKIN:** Me and the other **< REDACTED>** agents. But, like, Project Marzanna showed up with **< REDACTED>** and **< REDACTED>**, and Project Incubus were already there. Why are they just Project Incubus, I mean, there are four of them and I still don't get why—

**< REDACTED>: **What did Project Incubus and the others do?

**FRIEDKIN:** Well, um, it was kinda… like there weren't a lot of agents, and there were a lot of people in the camp. And the med tent said that they wouldn't be able to fix Brotzman, and we'd need him somewhere better if we were going to use him to make Icarus behave anyway. So, um, one of Project Incubus, Martin, said he was going with us.

**< REDACTED>: **And you allowed this?

**< REDACTED>: **Sergeant Friedkin?

**FRIEDKIN:** Uh. He kinda… I mean it was quicker than fighting with him? And we didn't really have enough agents to take them down. Er, in. Ma'am. And I did ask for them, but like, they weren't there.

**< REDACTED>: **So you evacuated Brotzman and one of the members of Project Incubus. And that was when you made the decision to destroy the camp?

**FRIEDKIN:** Yes, ma'am.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from the Rolling Stones' Sympathy for the Devil.


	13. faith has been broken tears must be cried

Well, at least somewhere that looked almost like a cafeteria wasn't in a horrible featureless cell with no hunches and no idea what, if anything was going to happen next.

Which was really the only good thing Dirk could think about his current situation. Because if he _had_ been in a horrible featureless cell with no hunches, he would have been left to do nothing more than think.

About how he wasn't going to get to talk to Todd tonight. Maybe possibly even kiss Todd tonight.

About how Todd had probably risen and been dispatched by now.

Dirk tried to think about where he was, instead, letting the universe fill in the gaps. The cafeteria was in what almost certainly had been a very large shopping mall prior to being taken over by first, zombies, and subsequently Blackwing. Now it was curiously empty. Riggins' men had dropped them here, and only a small handful of guards were guarding. Riggins was Rigginsing, Dirk thought, if such a verb were possible. That is, trying to sound comforting, which could only mean he was lying. See, he told himself. All kinds of things to think about that weren't Todd.

"Dirk."

Dirk blinked the tears that didn't seem to want to stop falling out of his eyes and looked at Riggins. Glared, more accurately. Just because he hadn't actually set the zombie on Todd didn't mean that it wasn't still his _fault._ It didn't matter if he was trying to sound kind and compassionate. He'd been using that tone on Dirk since Dirk was a child. It wasn't about to start working now.

"Dirk, I know today must have been terribly difficult for you—"

"That's putting it mildly." Dirk was grateful that he could still sound scathingly sarcastic while crying, at least.

"—And believe me, if there had been a better way to bring you in, we would have used it." It was so unfair, Dirk thought, that Riggins always sounded so _kind_. Parental, even. Well Dirk was well and truly done with it. And if he couldn't block out Riggins' voice, he certainly didn't have to respond. No more tests, no more hunches. They just caused trouble and pain and his best and only friend's _death_. He just had to wait, Farah and Amanda and the Rowdies and Ken and even Bart would come soon, and he wouldn't have to be here anymore. "Dirk, son. I'm asking you to help me put an end to all of this. Your gift… you can use it to help. Keep other people from suffering what your friend did."

And, yes, Dirk had told himself he wasn't going to react, wasn't going to give them _anything_ , but that was too much. "Don't _talk_ about him. You've no right. Riggins put a comforting hand on Dirk's shoulder, and Dirk shuddered away. "I just want to see my friends again. _Please_." He didn't know why he bothered, certainly saying please had never worked before.

"We can arrange that, yes. But only _after_ you help us."

"I think you need to stop lying to him, right now."

"Farah!" Dirk was so happy to hear her voice that he almost didn't register what she was saying. Farah was here to rescue him after all, looking more badass than ever. The gun in her hand was trained on Riggins and didn't waver.

"I'm not a threat to you, Ms. Black."

"Stop talking, please. Dirk, it's time to go."

Dirk looked anxiously between Farah and Riggins. It wasn't as though he didn't want to, obviously. Things were _horrible_ , but there were guards, at least a few of them and—

"You have to know you'll never be able to get him out of here in one piece, Ms. Black."

"I took out the three guards you have on the roof, the two at the entrances, and the one you didn't think I knew about. Dirk, get up. We're leaving."

If Dirk had been feeling better, he might have stuck out his tongue at Riggins as he scrambled to his feet and behind Farah, following her like a very obedient duckling. What the hell. Todd would have high-fived him.

The last sight Riggins had of Dirk as he disappeared into a corridor behind Farah was of Dirk sticking his tongue out with a glower.

 

***

 

In seemingly no time at all they were in the car and speeding away from the mall. Good riddance, and Dirk wasn't about to wish zombies on anyone, but, really, he wouldn't shed any tears if one took a massive

"We need to—"

"Meet up with Amanda and the Rowdy, yes, excellent, Farah, and thank you _very_ much for rescuing me—"

"Dirk."

It wasn't even a hunch that silenced Dirk, but there was something _terrible_ in Farah's tone, and even though it hardly seemed safe, she guided the car to the shoulder and faced Dirk. Dirk shook his head blindly. No. _No_. It wasn't _fair._

"Blackwing destroyed the camp right after I left. No one could have survived."

"Oh." Dirk didn't know what else to say as Farah hugged him, shed tears of her own. He wasn't really sure he'd know what to say ever again.

 

***

 

"I was thinking…"

Farah had taken a few MREs from the soldiers who'd been guarding Dirk, and when they'd driven long enough for her to deem it safe, stopped for the night. Dirk wasn't sure if they tasted like ash because they were horrible, or, worse, that everything might taste like ash forever. It wasn't a cheerful thought. He looked at Farah expectently.

"I was thinking of going to Belize. Lydia's there, and—" Dirk didn't really hear the rest. Oh. Of course. Of _course_ Farah would want to go find Lydia, she'd always been so terribly protective of the girl. It made sense. Just because Farah was, quite literally, the only person left on earth to make said earth slightly less horrible to be on didn't mean that she didn't have Things To Do. People to see.

And Dirk would be on his own again. No Todd to bring a backpack full of jacket and t-shirt and friendship, no… anyone really.

"Dirk?"

Dirk brought himself back to reality, horrible place that it was, with difficulty. "Yes?"

"I was hoping you'd come with me. If you wanted."

Oh.

_Oh._

"Yes, I think I'd like that very much. Thank you, Farah."

"You're welcome, Dirk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from The Rolling Stones' Wild Horses.


	14. or i'll lay your soul to waste

**EXCERPT FROM TRANSCRIPT OF SERGEANT HUGO FRIEDKIN DEBRIEFING, LOCATION <REDACTED>, SESSION TWO**

 

**< REDACTED>: **Thank you for joining us again, Sergeant Friedkin.

**FRIEDKIN:** I thought I didn't have a choice?

**< REDACTED>:** You don't. Now, you said you ordered the encampment destroyed—

**FRIEDKIN:** Well, um, I mean I know that Project Incubus were still there, but. You told me Dirk, uh, Project Icarus was the priority and—

**< REDACTED>:** I'm aware of what I told you.

**FRIEDKIN:** I thought that way they wouldn't, you know, follow us. Try to get Brotzman back.

**< REDACTED>:** Explain to us what happened at the hospital, Sergeant Friedkin.

**FRIEDKIN:** Well…

**< REDACTED>:** Sergeant Friedkin, please do not make me ask again.

**FRIEDKIN:** I guess, uh, the rest of Project Incubus was able to escape. And Project Marzanna. And that other guy. And Brotzman's sister.

**< REDACTED>:** So, everyone.

**FRIEDKIN:** Not Farah Black!

**< REDACTED>:** No, Ms. Black was already on her way to aid Project Icarus in escaping at that point.

**FRIEDKIN:** It wasn't my fault.

**< REDACTED>:** Sergeant Friedkin, your stated goal in destroying the survivor's encampment at **< REDACTED>** was to prevent Brotzman from being taken from your custody, was it not?

**FRIEDKIN:** Yes, ma'am.

**< REDACTED>:** And did you succeed in that objective?

**FRIEDKIN:** No.

**< REDACTED>:** Please continue.

**FRIEDKIN:** The Rowdy, um, Project Incubus kinda… smashed the hospital. A lot.

**< REDACTED>:** And where were you at this point?

**FRIEDKIN:** Guarding Brotzman, ma'am.

**< REDACTED>:** Very good. Describe what happened next.

**FRIEDKIN:** It was kinda… loud. So I went to look. And then, uh, Martin. He kinda… choked me.

**< REDACTED>:** When you were initially picked up, you said that Project Incubus, subproject Martin said something to you. Please tell the committee what it was.

**FRIEDKIN:** Don't fuck with Vogel or Drummer Girl again.

**< REDACTED>:** And then?

**FRIEDKIN:** They… left.

**< REDACTED>:** Thank you, Sergeant Friedkin. Please let the record show that Sergeant Friedkin not only failed to achieve his mission parameters, but allowed total escape of all Projects which may have ended this terrible conflict. Report to this committee tomorrow at 0800 for sentencing.

**FRIEDKIN:** But I can get them back!

**< REDACTED>:** I'm afraid you won't have the opportunity to do so. That will be all, Sergeant Friedkin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title again from the Rolling Stones' Sympathy for the Devil.


	15. looks like they took my friend

"Todd." Todd felt a hand gently shake his shoulder, and Sharkcat made a small noise when he sat up, dislodging her slightly from where she was curled up on his hip.

Well, it was beat the Rowdy Three or Amanda dumping a can of beer on his face, or, worse, Bart _staring at him_ until he woke up. "Zombies?"

Ken shook his head. "Bart thinks something's going to happen."

Todd sighed. "Great."

Two years. Two years since the CIA had stolen Dirk while Todd was injured and useless, since Farah had gone after him and not come back. They still hadn't managed to get so much as a lead. And as much as he'd like to hope that Bart's hunch was Dirk-related, long months — years now — of practice, had taught him it was best not to hope.

He'd looked. He'd even yelled, begged, and pleaded until they drove back to the ruins of Seattle and, against all odds, had found Sharkcat, because maybe the universe would reunite Dirk with his pet if it didn't care about him having his assisfriend.

It hadn't helped.

Todd wrapped himself up in his leather jacket. Not his demolished cool guy jacket, and not, even if it looked like one, an official Rowdy jacket, but it was good protection against Sharkcat's claws when she rode on his shoulder, and it helped him blend in. He started packing up camp, he could and had done so in his sleep at this point and thought of what Dirk would say if he were here, how he'd chatter about the universe and a new case and Todd would—

"We ain't leaving."

Todd considered it a sign of personal growth that he didn't jump every time Bart startled him these days.

"Well, you might be. But not yet." Bart went back to picking her teeth with a knife.

"You killing someone today?"

She grinned. "Maybe."

Great.

 

***

 

It was hot, too hot, when they heard the rumble of an approaching car and saw the dust cloud. Bart and Martin had conferred, insisted they stay put for the day. But without zombies — the populations had seemed to stabilize over the last few months. Todd wasn't sure what it meant. — And without people to help or kill, there wasn't much to do. Amanda started an impromptu drum circle, and Vogel danced around, but even they wilted after a while.

Bart waited.

Todd had never had a hunch, no matter how many times Dirk had tried to guide him to one. Still, when the dusty black suburban pulled up near them, he knew before the door opened that it was Riggins. That could have just been Sharkcat's offended hiss, though.

The growl that Todd thought might have come from Vogel or one of the other Rowdies turned out to be his own.

"Brotman."

Martin poked Riggins in the chest with his bat before Riggins could say more, and Bart smiled. "What do you want?"

"To make amends, if I can."

Martin thumped the bat against his hand ominously.

"I have information about Dirk Gently and Farah Black."

Martin poked Riggins in the chest with the bat. "Talk."

Riggins opened his mouth, and Todd snarled again. It was possibly less effective than the hiss Sharkcat let out. Riggins looked at her, looked back at Bart and Martin, and spoke. "I took Dirk Gently into custody after the attack at the survivor's encampment. Farah Black tracked him to our location, and informed him about the camp's destruction."

Todd could barely breathe. "Are you telling me that he thought we were all _dead_?!"

Riggins met his eyes squarely. "Dirk already thought you were dead. He'd seen you attacked by a zombie after all."

And yeah, fine, but Todd had hoped against stupid hope that Dirk hadn't believed it, had been smart enough or had a hunch or solved the case and at least knew that Todd was out there, somewhere, looking for him. He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach.

"Our location was overrun by zombies shortly after. No survivors."

Todd's brain went a little blank then.

Maybe it was too much time spent with the Rowdy Three, maybe Amanda was a bad influence.

Maybe it was that this guy, this _fucking_ guy had hurt Dirk when he was a kid, had hurt Dirk when he was an adult, and now was saying that Dirk and Farah _thought they were dead, and they'd died thinking that._

No. Not happening. Just not.

The Sharkcat leapt gracefully from Todd's shoulder to Vogel's, and half an instant after that, Todd had Riggins pinned up against the van, forearm across his throat. "Dirk Gently is not dead, asshole!"

Todd hadn't known he was going to say that until the words were out. Because yeah, he'd tried to believe them, but he hadn't really, he'd spent two years thinking Dirk and Farah were dead, that he'd never get to make things right with Dirk, see the smile in his eyes when he saw Sharkcat, and he wasn't psychic, he didn't have hunches, just a shitty disease that sometimes made him feel like he was on fire, but as soon as he said the words, he knew they were true.

And even though Riggins' face was starting to lose color and he was batting at Todd's arm ineffectually, Todd could make out the words he mouthed.

'I know.'

Todd let him loose.

Riggins dropped like a stone. "I didn't want to approach you until I knew his whereabouts." Voice choked and raspy, and Todd wanted to kick him in the throat and simultaneously for him to never stop talking. "Dirk Gently and Farah Black escaped my custody shortly before zombies overran the location where he was being held. They then traveled to Belize to make contact with Lydia Spring. Dirk's… opened his detective agency, and they're currently residing in San Ignacio. I'm the only one who knows he was alive, and I won't interfere further. You have my word."

Todd looked at Martin and Bart.

"Smells like truth."

Bart shrugged. "I'm not supposed to kill him."

Todd barely heard Martin telling Riggins to get lost. was already packing up. Pills they'd managed to steal from a pharmacy for the attacks, Sharkcat's favorite toy. Todd barely registered that Amanda was tearing up, grabbing him into a tight hug.

"Bring them home."

He nodded, holding her tight. "Promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Creedence Clearwater Revival's Lodi.


	16. friends shaking hands, saying how do you do

The mewl seemed to be coming from around the corner. It was a funny thing, which animals had managed to survive the war. A thought Dirk often had, but not a particularly welcome one. It made him think of other times, or even other discussions of other times, and none of them were thoughts he could really bear to look at directly.

And really there was no cause for the painful nostalgia. He wasn't even hearing a kitten (that could turn into a shark in times of great peril), it was an adult cat, albeit one with a sweet, chirping meow.The sun glared off of someone's bicycle frame. Dirk glanced away, his gaze landing on the upside-down Mexican Funeral logo on his shirt.

Dirk had experienced hunches his whole life and was quite sensible to what it felt like when things were falling into place, when he could see the interconnectedness of the universe.

He'd gotten better at fighting them, since the encampment.

"Dirk." His name, which wasn't entirely uncommon either. Farah would send clients after him if she couldn't come herself. He ignored it. There was no reason on earth that should be his kitten. Shark. Sharkitten. Whatever. And yet it was the only possible connection he could draw. And that meant the person holding her—

"Dirk." The voice was a bit more insistent, and fighting the very desperate need to turn around was beginning to be more of a screaming agony than mildly uncomfortable. But the only conclusion he could draw, the only one the universe allowed to make sense, was the only one that didn't make any sense at all. It couldn't be, was not possible, and it never could be. 'Do you ever see things, visions,' Todd had asked, so long ago, and Dirk didn't, hadn't. But it seemed that he'd progressed to auditory hallucinations. Farah would be the opposite of delighted, he was sure.

If he turned around there would be nothing there, or at least nothing like what he wanted to see, and he would go mad. Three years since the universe had led him to that wretched survivor's encampment. Three years since he'd insisted it was necessary that they all be there together, but then not together enough. Three years since he'd killed his best friend. All of his friends. Separate queues. Bloody separate queues. They should have held hands. 

Dirk realized, dimly, that he'd clenched his hands tightly enough to dig his nails in — Todd looking at unbroken, undamaged hands in horror, seeing wounds Dirk couldn't see in the same way Dirk saw connections that Todd didn't.

"Dirk." Todd's lips forming Dirk's name, scared and reaching and blood everywhere. Reality and memory were a curious overlay. A real word, the same word, emerging from the memory's lips. In Todd's voice. It made no bloody sense, Dirk had never had visions, but it was Todd's voice, and Dirk turned around without really giving his body permission to do so.

It looked like Todd.

A battered leather jacket that looked like it could have come from the Rowdy Three and a dainty, sleek black cat in his arms. Lines around his eyes, and scars going up his neck. Tired, but very much alive, very much not undead, and very much Todd. Dirk blinked, the image kept going under water, wobbly and wavy. He blinked again, Todd was still there, that hesitant smile he'd had picking Dirk up from the hospital, all those years ago, waiting for Dirk to say something. Taking pity on him when he didn't. "Hey."

"Hey?" Repeating simple words, it seemed, was something Dirk was capable of doing. "Todd." He let himself say Todd's name, which would make it real, and it couldn't be real. He couldn't let himself acknowledge that the rather battered but alive man in front of him was real because then Dirk would die inside all over again when the Todd-with-Kitten in front of him was just… was just… "Todd. I don't— I'm afraid I'm not—I'm not sure how you're..." Dirk knew he was stammering, but he couldn't help himself, he couldn't find any words at all, and then Todd's face broke open into a wide delighted smile.

"You still have the shirt."

Dirk glanced down at the Mexican Funeral t-shirt, thin with age and many, many wearings, then jerked his eyes back up, because he had taken his eyes off Todd and what if Todd disappeared.

Todd had not disappeared. Todd was looking at him like some wonderful and undeserved surprise and he was holding Dirk's kitten. Cat. Kittensharkcat. It was entirely impossible and the interconnectedness of how Todd came to be here was trying to make itself known and Dirk was stammering like an idiot because he had been wishing for an impossible one more minute with his best friend for the better part of three years and now he had one and he couldn't put two words together.

"You know what, enough," he heard Todd mutter, as though making a decision, and suddenly Dirk was caught in a hug, the kitten somewhat squashed between them and meowing plaintively. It only took a moment before Dirk wrapped his arms around the both of them, gasping and holding tight. "I missed you, asshole." Todd's voice had the slightest waver in it, and, Sharkittencat notwithstanding, couldn't actually be pressed any closer to Dirk without crawling inside his skin.

Dirk sucked in a ragged breath. "I— Yes. I— I did… how did..."

But he knew. Parts of it, at least. The connection that he'd been blind to, the clue he'd missed and that had been nagging at him for three bloody years.

The ghoul had been bleeding. A thin scratch across her back, almost lost amidst old wounds and scabs and general filth, fresh blood bright.

Zombies didn't bleed. Oozed a bit, foul and brackish, but not blood.

"Wasn't a zombie. A quisling."

"But the encampment, Todd." Fingers digging in tighter, pressing his face against Todd's hair. "It was destroyed, overrun, not a single survivor. Even if—"

"They medevac'd me out of there. It was that guy, Friedkin. I think he thought he could use me as leverage. Amanda had an attack and saw something, she and the guys followed me and kidnapped me back."

The question he hadn't dared to ask. It had been too unbelievably selfish to hope that the universe had given him back more of what it had taken. "Then Amanda… she?"

"Is fine. She's fine. She says hi." Of course she would. "She also said she's going to get a collar with a bell on it so you don't wander off again. The Rowdies are okay too, and Ken and Bart last time I saw them. We've all been looking for you. For you and Farah."

"I wasn't the one that was lost," Dirk mumbled, because of course he wasn't lost, he'd known exactly where he was. It was Todd who'd been... Gone. If Dirk were imagining how such a reunion would go, Todd would have said something stoic, and perhaps skeptical, like 'uh-huh,' with a healthy dose of sarcasm. Todd didn't.

"Yeah." The tiniest wobble on the word, and Dirk tightened his arms, ignoring the rather offended meow from the kitten. "You fucking were, Dirk." Were, but not are, were but not are. Dirk could have shouted it.

 

***

 

Dirk knew he was being too quiet during dinner, not really eating in favor of staring at Todd and sneaking scraps to the kitten. Things had been somewhat of a blur after the hug. During the hug, even. Todd holding onto him even more tightly than when he'd rescued Dirk from Blackwing, mostly because there wasn't the pressure of needing to escape on top of it. Dirk unwilling to let go of Todd's hand until they were back at the agency, letting go eventually so that Todd could hug Farah nearly as tight, leaving Sharkittencat in Dirk's arms as a substitute. Addition. She was purring and butting her face against Dirk's, which was terribly helpful considering he teared up all over again when Lydia came to see what the commotion was, and looked deeply unimpressed.

"Didn't you throw me off a bridge once?"

"Sorry." And then they were hugging too.

Dirk buried his face in Sharkittencat's fur. There was a lot of hugging going around. It was nice.

And then things were another blurry wobble of time while they prepared dinner — Farah had been teaching Dirk to cook and his concoctions were very nearly consistently edible now. Sitting down at the tiny table in the apartment above the agency, Todd's leg pressed tight against his, Sharkittencat stretched over their laps while the conversation ebbed and flowed around them like the currents of the universe.

"So, the sign." Dirk managed a smile for Todd as they cleared away the dishes. Farah and Lydia, it seemed, had agreed mutually and silently to give them some privacy.

"Brotzman, Brotzman, Black, Rowdy, Curlish, Ken, Spring and Gently's Holistic Detective Agency." The plaque Todd had smiled at on their way into the apartment-slash-office was a largish one, all things considered, but Dirk had been insistent. 

Because he hadn't wanted to clutter up the sign when he'd first imagined the agency, but when he actually went and got one, he had so desperately wanted the whole agency full of people, and settled for a crowded sign instead.

And maybe it was alright that Dirk's eyes kept flooding up because of a sudden Todd's were too, and two whole hugs in one day, it hardly seemed real.

 

***

 

They went to bed early. Dirk lit a candle and led the way to his tiny room, explaining that Farah and Lydia had bunk beds across the hall. The apartment had many advantages, including that it was easily defensible and could only be entered via the detective agency's office. Size, however, was not one of these advantages.

"Too bad we don't still have the everbulb."

Todd had somehow thought over the years that he'd imagined or misremembered that when Dirk was well and truly delighted, his smile was bright enough to actually be classified as a weapon that could knock anyone on their ass.

He had not.

"You remembered!" Dirk was practically bouncing, and then misty as he set the candle down on the nightstand. "Our first case together."

Todd laughed, he couldn't help it. "You really think I'd forget?"

Dirk was chewing on his lip, smile still bright in his eyes and shook his head, then nodded, then shook his head again.

Todd had been journeying for four months overland to reach Dirk, mostly hitchhiking, to figure out what he was supposed to say. The two years before that, even, to figure out how in the hell he was supposed to apologize, to have the conversation they never did. He was pretty sure he'd known somewhere along the line what to say to make it right, make it better, to make Dirk understand how sorry he was for all of it.

Looking into wide blue eyes, Todd couldn't remember a word. He leaned in before he could think any further, and kissed Dirk, soft and sweet.

Dirk made a surprised noise for all of half a second, and then Todd grunted, because Dirk had his arms and legs wrapped around Todd, and Dirk was surprisingly heavy for such a skinny guy. Too skinny, Todd thought dimly, but they'd have all the time in the world for Todd to feed him up and figure out how to make milkshakes. 

But higher level thought was fading fast. Kissing Dirk was exactly and nothing like he remembered. Sweet and good, but not alcohol-hazed. The candle gave more than enough light to cast Dirk's skin golden, and they didn't have to try to be quiet, so he could taste every one of Dirk's moans and sighs as they fell back on the bed.

Actually getting undressed was pure luxury, and Todd's hands were so greedy over Dirk's soft skin. Todd forced himself to slow down. He wanted to take his time to savour what he'd spent so long imagining and remembering.

Treating Dirk like the pure gold sunbeam he actually was. Todd could hear himself saying Dirk's name over and over again, how good he felt. How he'd thought about this. How beautiful Dirk looked, and yeah it was a weird thing to say to a guy, but Dirk was. The candlelight was soft over his skin, over the dark shadows of his lashes where they'd fallen closed. Over—

Over the damp trails eking from the corners of his eyes.

"Dirk?"

"Yes?" Oh and that wasn't right at all. Dirk sounded hesitant, wavery. Tears in his voice all over again and shit. Todd sat up, touching Dirk's cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Yes?" But Dirk didn't sound sure and fuck. This was just not happening.

"I am so, so sorry." Fuck fuck fuck, just got his best friend back, and already fucking things up, nice job Todd.

"Oh."

"Dirk—… look, please, just… I want to fix this. Please."

"No, really, it's all right, Todd." Dirk waved his hand vaguely, but his eyes were still closed. "Please… carry on."

"No. Absolutely not. Not until you tell me what's wrong." Todd could feel desperation rising. "Dirk, you won't even look at me."

"I just…" Dirk hesitated. Todd grabbed Dirk's hand and squeezed tight. "I love you very much." A bare whisper, and he sounded so sad, Todd would do anything, anything at all to make him not sound like that anymore. Except—

"What? What?"

And that did get Dirk to open his eyes, blink. "Surely you knew."

"You said we were friends." Todd hated that he sounded accusing, and dragged himself back.

"Yes, well, Amanda said that you, what was it, loved them and left them. And obviously I love you and—"

"I love you too." It was blurted out, not tender, and not at all how Todd meant to say it.

"You what now?" Dirk sighed. "Todd, please don't be ridiculous. You don't have to say it back just because I said it. I'm not saying that I love you as a friend, though I obviously do that too. I'm simply saying that…" And his voice wobbled again, Todd almost couldn't stand it. "As much as I've missed you, and I am so, so grateful to have you back, you are my very best friend, I just don't think that I can be casual like before, it means too much to me. And I'm grateful you like sex with me, really I am, but I don't want to—"

"Dirk!"

"—To be a groupie as it were— yes?"

Todd was dragging Dirk until he was sitting up. "You're in love with me." And Todd knew he was laughing, like a crazy person, kissing Dirk again, then looking at him as seriously as he could. As seriously as when he'd told him that they were friends. "I don't want— I never wanted a one-night stand with you." Dirk bit his lip, and Todd wanted to look away, but didn't. Dirk of all people deserved for him to be brave right now. "I just… want to be with you. However you'll have me. As long as you have me." And he had to look down then. "I want to make you happy, and I want to make you feel good. That's it."

"Oh." Dirk sounded a bit faint, and Todd looked up. Waiting.

Dirk's smile, when it spread over his face, was a lovely thing. Bright and soft and hopeful. "Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Oh." But it was a more wondering 'oh', and this time Dirk was the one to lean in and kiss Todd. Gentle, a 'hello there' kind of kiss, like the kind you'd kiss someone good morning with. "Please?"

"Anything," Todd whispered, and Dirk laid back down on the bed.

 

***

 

Todd felt like they'd been kissing for days. They'd lost all their clothing, and Dirk's clever fingers were everywhere, greedy touches like he couldn't get enough. Todd found the slightly ticklish spot between Dirk's ribs, learned about the hitching sigh Dirk would let out when Todd stroked the crease between his hip and thigh. He wanted everything.

Felt the way Dirk moaned when Todd finally, finally thrust inside, with such loud enthusiasm that Sharkittencat bolted off the bed, and Farah (and the neighbors in a three block radius) could probably hear.

No tears this time, just Dirk grinning like the giant dork he was, and Todd only had half a second to register the mischievous look on Dirk's face before he was locking his ankles behind Todd's back and tugging him in close.

Todd moaned himself, and Dirk looked positively triumphant when they kissed this time. Todd still felt like he was winning when he curled a hand around Dirk and Dirk let out a surprisingly coy noise, then whimpered when Todd started to stroke in counterpoint to his slow thrusts.

Neither could last as long as they wanted, but they had time, Todd thought Dirk might have even moaned out something to that effect — he never stopped talking, just got more incoherent, mumbling happily into Todd's hair, even when Todd half collapsed over him.

When they finally blew out the nearly burnt-out candle and let themselves drift, they were tangled up tight.

With Sharkittencat happily curled up on the small of Dirk's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Louis Armstrong's What a Wonderful World and reimagined by Joey Ramone.


	17. epilogue

"What are you doing?" Dirk could hear his voice rising a bit. "You're not leaving."

"What? No. Just… Just getting something from my bag. Just a sec." Todd's voice sounded a bit strained in the darkness, but that could have been that he was dangling off the edge of the bed to reach his backpack. Dirk heard the rattle of pills and frowned. It was a distinctive frown, he was sure Todd could sense it.

"I just, uh… it's for the pararibulitus attacks. I can sometimes stop them before they start if I, y'know."

"So you're still…" Dirk bit his lip. He'd really thought Todd _hated_ him after their last… discussion about it. Dreadful horrible terrible fight about it.

"It doesn't go away, Dirk." Todd was quiet for a long moment. "I'm better at handling it. Not just the attacks themselves but—… Dirk I'm really sorry for how I treated you. I wasn't dealing with them well. Or at all, and I took it out on you."

Dirk fumbled for the lighter and got the candle going again so that he could see Todd's face. "You don't have to be sorry at _all_ , it must have been terribly upsetting."

"Yeah, Dirk, I do. You were trying to help, and you were trying to keep us all safe, and I threw it back in your face."

"You can keep throwing anything you want in my face as long as you're around to do so." Dirk meant it with his whole heart. Todd could yell at him and call him horrible names every day from here to eternity and Dirk would accept it with a smile, because Todd was alive to yell at him. And give him very odd looks, which he was currently doing.

"Yeah, _no_. Dirk, you have _got_ to stop forgiving me so easily for being a jackass." But there was the smallest smile on Todd's face, and it delighted Dirk to no end.

"I have to do no such thing. You're my best friend, and you know how I feel about you calling yourself an arsehole."

"I didn't call myself an arsehole."

"But you were thinking it." Dirk knew he was right. He looked smug for a minute before remembering it was something he'd rather be wrong about. And Todd was laughing, so now he could look smug.

"Okay. I won't call myself an asshole again tonight. Cross my heart. And if I do…"

"Then I will tell Sharkittencat to nuzzle you without mercy." The weaponized soul in question seemed to know she was being spoken of, and leaped onto Dirk's bum, kneading. "I can't believe you didn't name her. Poor thing."

"She's yours, it wouldn't have been right."

Oh and really, for all that Todd smiled so rarely, every single one was new and lovely. This one soft and fond and happy and all for Dirk. "How did you find her anyway? We must've looked for hours that day."

Todd was quiet for a long time. "When… when we couldn't find you and Farah. After Riggins and those guys took you. It was so stupid, but…"

"But?"

"I thought maybe the universe would give you back if I found your cat."

Dirk pondered this. "That's terribly sweet, Todd, but she's very much your cat, too."

Todd shook his head, and there was another of those fond smiles, though this one trailed off into an enormous yawn. Dirk sat up a bit and blew out the candle again, settling back down against Todd's chest. "Sleep now." He had a hunch that it would be the best sleep either of them had had in the longest time, after all, and it was nice to not be fighting hunches.

Still. "Todd?"

"Mmhmm?"

"What happens in the morning?"

"In the morning?" Dirk felt the sigh Todd huffed out under his palm and dug his fingers into Todd's chest a bit, trying to catch it. "In the morning, we help Farah pack up her arsenal. Try to find the next case." Todd's eyes slanted over to him. "Give the cat a name." Dirk startled a bit when Todd's hand covered his, fingers lacing together. "I don't really care what we do, but you're stuck with me, okay. If you want to stay here, we can make that work. Amanda's thinking about starting a band, some kind of traveling combo act, zombie nests destroyed followed by celebratory punk rock or something. I could teach you to play keyboard maybe." Dirk heard it before he saw it, the tiny… difference in Todd's voice, and when he looked, Todd's eyes looked very faintly wetter than usual. "I don't care, Dirk. Just as long as, y'know."

Dirk really didn't know, and he squeezed Todd's hand, looking at him expectantly. "As long as…"

"As long as we're together, asshole."

"Oh."

"Oh?" Todd was struggling to sit up, sounding nearly offended. "I bare my heart to you and all you can say is 'oh'."

Dirk grinned. "Todd Brotzman, are you telling me you're in love with me."

"Were you even listening to me?" Todd was definitely looking offended now, more like a prickly cat than even Sharkittencat.

Dirk laughed, because he was happy and he couldn't help it, and rolled over on top of Todd, because it felt good, and kissed him, because he wanted to, and he could whenever he wanted to now. "It's going to be a _fantastic_ day."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic combines my favorite tropes: The peculiar intimacy only achieved on long, rambling road trips in the spaces between civilization, mutual pining, and zombies.
> 
> Every song title I considered for this fic involved folk songs about dues-paying musicians just trying to get home. I’m convinced that Todd did punk covers of many of them over the years.


End file.
